


A Promise from the Tangled Shore

by iExpress



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Cayde-6 Feels (Destiny), Emotional, Erotica, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Funny, Ghosts are the Best, In Memory of Cayde-6 (Destiny), Interspecies Romance, Kinks, M/M, Minor Psychological Plot, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Voice Kink, slightly dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29401419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iExpress/pseuds/iExpress
Summary: The fear and awe of the Tangled Shore; it's the one thing everybody knows about the Spider. Knowing what there is to know about him, his infamous reputation and... 'business' sense included, there is really no excuse you can come up with for the insufferable hots you've been having towards the Eliksni crime lord and his muscle-bound goddamn arms, his voice, or those eyes of icy blue. The nerve of that bug, doing this to you! Then again, if you can't stop it... why would you? You end up trying to do something about it.It goes a bit TOO well....Also, dead Cayde is way chattier than you thought he'd be.
Relationships: Guardian - Relationship, Guardian/The Spider (Destiny), The Spider (Destiny)/Reader
Comments: 51
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing.
> 
> For readers of all genders. Or at least, I tried.  
> Added a bunch of tags as I wrote, because this went in several directions

As a Guardian, some values have been instilled in you since before you knew you had them. Like honour and fairness, sense for appropriately applied justice and revenge, need for honesty and integrity. Whatever difference there is between any one guardian or their respective mentor, one common thing you all have is that differences could be discussed, and a solution could be found. 

… This is all, of course, said in terms of your duty as a Guardian, and definitely not in terms of you being an absolute weirdo, because when it comes to you, you’re afraid you might be crossing that threshold of oddity that makes your weirdness less than desirable. All this and more goes on in your head as you try figure out what might be wrong with you through whatever philosophical or ethical monologues you can come up with. It doesn’t erase the simple fact that you got it very hot for utterly wrong people. Or person, more accurately. 

The Spider is anything but a normal man... alien, to take a shine to, and Petra Venj makes it more than clear without intending to; what from her warning you about his ‘business model’, to the very fact she seemed wary when you first met the Eliksni, her hand ready on her blade. You may not be aware of the history between the two that has made her so tense but one thing is for sure; he is not to be fucked with. 

Coincidentally, it is exactly what you want to do. 

Your first meeting was fairly friendly, his current 'occupation' considered. You thought him the kind of person you wouldn't mind meeting in a social setting were there ever a chance for a such a thing; he was clever, confident, and even kinda funny when he wasn't trying to be threatening. It was the continuous work with him, however, that slowly opened your eyes to things you never knew you wanted. He breathed danger and intrigue, he radiated with a sort of... intimidating quality you didn't know the exact name of, the quality you found positively sexy. You were not expecting this from anyone, let alone from a large, muscled, alien creature with voice like liquid metal, every word as if handpicked to make your breath heavier, and whose four arms you often like to imagine wrapping around you, and touching you in ways that make you-- 

“-- not looking yourself today, Guardian.” You hear Zavala saying, worry in his voice.

If he had a _sli_ _ver_ of knowledge of your by now daily distraction, he’d strip you of your title himself. Or at the very least, he would look through you rather than express his concern as he handed you the today’s mission briefing.

“New boots.” You reply. “Like ‘em?” 

Zavala tries his hardest not to roll his eyes. Instead, there is almost a smile. _Almost_. 

“It’s like he never left.” He says, more to himself than to you. 

Cayde taught his troops well in ways of battle, with a good deal of your fellow hunters picking up on his sassy, if sometimes childish, sense of humour. You’re not necessarily one of them but it often cheers Zavala up to see his deceased friend’s influence on the Tower. 

The mention of Cayde reminds you of the fact it was his passing that technically brought to you meeting the damn four-armed source of your problems and it only makes the whole thing that much more morbid. You swear you can hear the Exo Hunter teasing you from beyond the grave. You decide to take it as a sign that there are no hard feelings, even though you really hate the fact one of those people reminds you of the other.

The fact you feel as if you can still sometimes _actually_ hear him doesn't help.

 _I guess you’d be newly-webs if you ever got married._ The terrible joke echoes in your head in a voice that imitates Cayde with frightening accuracy. 

“Damn it.” You groan to yourself, feeling trapped between your own embarrassing desires and imaginary voice that further inquiries if Spider would be okay with living in a ‘no-fly’ zone. You spend a few minutes hating yourself and the sense for bad puns Cayde seemed to have planted in every Guardian who would listen to him for longer than five seconds. 

You spend the afternoon chasing after the bounty that suspiciously led you to the fickle airs Tangled Shore, of all places. It would be not the first nor the last time you’re landing here but ever since these desires emerged, you get a strange feeling in your gut when you approach the place. Or it could be the fact you forgot to put your helmet on. Oxygen is not in supply on the Shore with today's weather.

At the end of the day, you still have your Guardian pride and honour to uphold, and as such pay an overdue visit to the damn alien. He’s sure to have more work for you. Although the ‘debt’ he keeps talking about has probably been long since paid, the alliance is still beneficial for both of you, so you let him call it what he will. He _does_ call the shots on this territory, and you’d be insane to disrespect that before his subordinates. Or at any given time, really.

“Welcome back, Guardian! It’s prime time you visited.” His gravelly voice crawls over and into your ears, and you have to try hard to suppress a shudder. “I have almost begun to think you didn’t _care_.” 

It’s exactly because you care – in a manner of speaking – that you didn’t come here for a while. Not that you’re going to tell him that. 

... Ever. 

“Cleaning up other people’s mess seems to have become an everyday operation.” You excuse yourself and for what it’s worth, it’s true. If it weren’t for the daily efforts you and your Fireteam engaged in, perhaps you wouldn’t have time to stand here even today. 

“Ah, yes,” Spider hisses, “it’s but one out of many your talents. How fortunate that I have... so many uses for all of them.” 

Your mind drives you straight into the gutter but you firmly take the wheel. 

“Show me what you got.” You faintly reply, and the two of you get to business, discussing an encampment of Scorn that have taken place and grown in number on the outskirts of his territory. It’s a simple but long and dirty job. 

You steer your mind away again. 

“The Taken are forming their own little hideouts, however,” the Spider continues, idly handling an empty shell of a Ghost. “My spies tell me they hide in dozens of nooks and crannies around my territory... the **pests** need to get a taste of Spider's wrath.” 

_Guess you could say they drove Spider up the wall, huh?_

You’re not sure why Cayde’s voice resonates so loudly in you but it makes you let out the smallest, tiniest of chuckles that the perceptive kingpin can’t fail to notice. 

“... Is the death of my men entertaining, Guardian?” The Spider growls, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Nothing would make me happier than to give you a show.” 

_"Not even a dinner first?"_

... Oops.

You said that aloud, you realize. You wish you could slap Cayde's dead body right now. If you could, you're sure it would laugh at you.

“I didn’t- Sorry, what I meant-” You stumble over your words, which is not something you usually struggle with. You warn yourself to get your act together. “Consider it done.” You try to rush the whole conversation, because at this point, you don't know if you can elegantly get away with it. 

The Spider regards you a moment longer before sending you on your way with a lazy wave of one of his long arms, his glowing eyes narrowing, seeming to glare right through you and for a moment all you can think of is that gaze, looming over you, him leaning in and-- 

“Damn him and his stupid goddamn-” Once outside you give an unfairly harsh treatment to your Sparrow, kicking its side. The vehicle can’t respond, of course, and it just happily bobs as you let out your frustrations, both sexual and otherwise, on it. 

The ride to the Scorn encampment is furious, and you can’t be sure but you might have mowed down a few of them on your way there. You’re both incredibly distracted and destructive in your mission, which ultimately results in your detonating a far bigger territory than necessary. But at least it makes your mission shorter, and you get to spend the rest of the day in your lodgings. 

It is very late when your transmitter informs you have someone trying to reach you in comms. At this time of the night, and considering it wasn’t on the emergency channel, you feel like you have every right to simply ignore it. 

… Still. Guardian and all that. 

Your curse the modern AI based technology, stop touching yourself, and begrudgingly allow the connection, the fantasy of those _arms,_ those _eyes_ , and that tall, **strong** frame still flashing in your mind and the sound of that _voice_ still like an echo in your ears. 

“Guardian at your service.” You manage in ragged breath. 

“ _Quite an explosive outcome._ ” The voice echoes all too real. 

You go pale, wondering how the Hell could Spider know what you were doing moments ago. 

“ _There is not a Scorn to be seen for miles._ ” he continues. 

“Oh.” The mission. Of course, he was talking about the mission. “...I tried to be thorough.” 

“ _A bit too thorough,_ ” Spider continues, “ _but at least you put on a show for them. It should give them a good scare for a while._ ” 

“Uh-huh.” 

You’re suddenly aware of the following fact; the Spider, the crime lord of the Tangled Shore, called you at this time of night to proverbially pat you on the back and tell you ‘good job’, which is absolutely not something he does. You wonder what is it he wants... or what the hell did you do wrong. You hope you didn’t screw up anything major and try to sound nonchalant, like he didn’t just interrupt you masturbating to an image of his stupid face in your mind. 

“So, how can I help you?” 

You hear a one of those 'not-a-good-sign' chuckles that gives you goosebumps. “ _While welcome, your assistance is not_ _required_ _at his point. But I couldn't_ _help trying_ _to satiate my.._.,” you swallow, “... _curiosity_.” 

“What is it you’re curious about?” You ask. 

“ _You, Guardian.”_ There is something akin to amusement in his voice. “ _I'm used to a different... more professional, if you will... attitude from a light-bearer like you. It was nowhere on display today. ”_

You knew he was perceptive but damn. Then again, you really were out of your element. 

_“_ We all got issues, Spider.” You force back the formality into your voice. “Trust me when I say mine are not worthy of your time.” You pause. You know the conversation could end right here with you claiming there was nothing to it, and... and that would be it. He probably wouldn't contact you in this manner again.

With some sort of clarity you realize that, not only do you not want that to happen but this could also be a single chance you have to _do_ something. Something bold. This qas in fact the very first time you two talked in utter solitude. No Ghost, no Eliksni guards, no Fireteam... just your two voices in the dead of the night.

Before you can decide against it--

“But I _must_ express how flattered I am that you care.” 

It is clearly a teasing joke, not offensive or insulting by any means. It is just that you don't have the slightest idea about how he’ll take it. You can imagine Spider is not the kind of person who is used to being teased. 

And for sure, at first there is a silence, a few seconds longer than you perhaps want it to be. You’re about to excuse yourself, when the Spider laughs again.

“ _How could I not care for my favorite Guardian?_ ” 

There are a few chosen times when Spider would refer to you as ‘his’. Usually, they encompass a situation where he desires to enunciate the fact you work for him, and not the other way around. You wonder if this is any different. 

You decide to play a risky game. 

“Your favourite, huh?” You let those words hang. 

“... _I could name several dozen Guardians that have done business with me in the past_ ,” the Spider speaks back, slowly, “ _perhaps more... but I can’t name one that ever got themselves... an opportunity to be flattered by my words.”_

You figure that this, in Spider’s own convoluted, backwards language, means that he doesn’t usually do this. 

… To Hell with it. You go all in. 

“Watch out, Spider.” You manage a whisper. “You’re about to make me feel special.” 

“... _Is there something terribly bad about that?_ ” 

Holy shit.

"Could be." You continue. "You have to take responsibility for it.” 

“ _Hmm? And what might this..._ _responsibility_ _, look like?_ ” 

You don’t know when is it that your fingers lowered down but they are now there and you really, truly can’t do anything about it. You try to make your breathing soundless but you can’t tell if you’re succeeding at it. 

“I’ll let you think of a way... or two... or four.” You completely let that slip but at this point in time, being anywhere but next to the crime lord, you feel braver than you probably should. “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle m—handle it.” You’re being obvious. Too obvious... are you? You stop caring, not now. 

“... _I’m not entirely certain one such as you could take it_.” The Spider continues, and you can hear it in his voice; he is not certain what kind of game you're playing but he is into it. Oh if he knew-, “ _but I’m willing to bet that if anyone can do it, it’s..._ ** _my_** _Guardian._ ” 

**Oh god fucking** **dammit.**

“I didn’t take you for a betting man.” Your breath is all but gone. 

“ _I can recognize a winner when I see one._ ” On the other side, for the first time, you register a deeper breath of his own. The imagery your horny mind comes up with is-- 

“ _Fuck_.” You hiss as quietly as you can but the chuckle on the other side makes it clear it was heard.

" _Guardian_?" Spider inquires, curiously and playfully and fuck he _knows_. Your legs quiver and you bite your lip, desperate to hold on to the last shreds of your dignity. Your hand hurries the pace. You are _so_ close, if you could just speak normally-

“It’s encouraging-” You start, desperate to finish this call without panting out his name, “to know you have such faith in me. I’ll do my best... to show you I’m worthy of it.” 

“ _As always, I’m expecting to be... satisfied with your performance._ ” 

_Just_ **_fuck_ ** _me already, Spider._

“ **I will not disappoint you**.” You manage to say instead, and break off the communications before you moan loudly into your own elbow, fingers and the seat you’re on entirely soaked, shivering in the aftermath of the best call you ever received. 

It is only a quarter of an hour later, when you shower and lie in your bed, that you realize what you just did and with whom. 

_Looks like you got..._ **_tangled_ ** _up in a_ **_web_ ** _of passion!_

“Shut the Hell up, Cayde.” You mumble to the imaginary voice of the deceased Exo soldier but laugh at the stupid joke anyway, shivers going through you. 

You have no idea what awaits you the next time you meet. 

It is the anticipation of the best kind. 


	2. Chapter 2

Your Fireteam is not very fond of you at the moment. Sure, you got the job done but usually the operation runs smoothly, and doesn’t require your Ghost to return you to the realm of the living every five minutes. Your Ghost, patient and caring as he is, occasionally says something along the lines of ‘you can talk to me if you need to’ or ‘I am at your service’ but at the end of the day, you can tell he is also a bit let down by your silence. 

You can’t really blame any of them, and in attempt to make things at least a little bit less sour, treat them to a generous ramen dinner. By the second bowl, there are no hard feelings to be found, and the team instead teases you about your abysmal performance, which they have no idea is the direct result of you having what was virtually a clean form of phone sex with the Spider. 

… Good god, putting it in such plain terms makes it sound even _worse_. 

It all transpired only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help hoping there would be another call even though you know it isn’t happening. The Spider has all the time in the world to wait until you come and meet him face to face again, and when that happens... 

What then? 

This is the primary reason you haven’t visited him already – you're not sure if there is anything that’s bound to happen and if there is, you’re not entirely sure you’re ready for it, and if you are, what if nothing happens at all? You’re aware you might be overthinking this, and really, you’re both adults - what is a single accidental sexy call between business associates, right? 

… Right? 

_I fear it’s not as simple as that, kid,_ the imitation of Cayde’s voice echoes in your head, this time thankfully without any spider-related puns. 

_Yeah, those got old fast. I have a new approach. I’m going for ‘wise sage’ kind of vibe. Think it would suit me?_

… That voice is becoming a bit too normal of an occurrence. Do you really miss him that bad? You’ll need to get your head checked. 

You have no time to decide for yourself how long you want to avoid the crime lord, because on the very next day, your Fireteam gets word of the dangerous individual scouring the Spider’s shore, and naturally, they got hold of the contract first. Peachy. 

The individual in question isn’t so much dangerous as they are slippery, and the bounty wants them alive as it is a Fallen deserter – it takes a while to find them, and even longer to surround them, by the end of which one of your Fireteam members runs out of fucks to give, and the other considers it a never-ending waste of time. It doesn’t help that a weird sort of climate washed over the Shore, bringing a thick, heavy slosh of rain with it and very little air to breathe. You’re all tired and it’s been a while since any target has worn you out like this. _Hey, no-one said this would always be smooth sailing,_ you think to yourself as you approach the beast from behind, your team cornering them straight into your reach. You jump, you swing, and the target collapses under your fist. It is such an easy job in the end that it frustrates all of you for how much trouble it had caused. 

The four of you are not in high spirits when you visit the Spider’s lair, somewhat drenched and cold. It doesn’t help that you can’t remember when was the last time you were this nervous. You get a familiar bubbly feeling in your stomach the moment you can hear slivers of Spider's speech coming from deep within his chambers. Just as you enter, a different Fireteam exits. You all all say of greetings with no more than a nod of your heads. They look as if they had just as bad of a day as you.

“Guardians, welcome!” Spider's greeting booms across the room. He does a good job addressing all of you at once, not making you feel any more special or ignored than usual. You find yourself feeling grateful about it. “I trust that you had come across no issues on the job?” 

“Wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Though he says that, the Titan in your team sounds annoyed. He pushes the shackled figure forward. “I hope the slippery bastard is worth the trouble.” 

“They _always_ are.” This time, he looks straight at you. 

_I think he’s referring to **you**. _

You have to agree with Cayde this time around. _Whooboy_ _._ That was one way to let you know he had fun. You are a little bit too happy about it, and are glad you have to keep your helmet on. There is no need to let him know anyway. Still, you manage the subtlest of nods. The Spider lets out a grunt as he adjusts himself in his ‘throne’. For a moment, you visualize yourself on top of him right there, both gasping for breath. You try your best to focus.

“Take him away.” He growls to his guards, and they push and pull at the deserter as he tries to fight for freedom to no avail. 

“ _Finally_. Let’s go home, this was a **mess f** rom start to end.” The Warlock cuts in, a bit too loudly if anything. You dare yourself to look at the crime lord, and you do because apparently, you’re a glutton for sexual frustration. 

The Spider is watching you intently, his hand dexterously playing with a shell of a dead ghost. He abruptly laughs, startling your teammates. 

“ **Ha** ! A _‘mess’_!” He repeats the word, more to himself rather than to anyone. He beckons you, and you approach, a lump in your throat. "It just goes to show...,” he extends his arm, shell in hand, “that not every Guardian,” you extend yours, “is good enough”, his fist slowly presses against your palm and it creaks... “to be called,” louder... emits the tiniest of snaps, “... **my** guardian.” 

The shell breaks to pieces, and they crumble into your open palm. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and it’s fucking _loud._

Fucking god damn stupid, _sexy_ son of a **_bitch_**. 

Your team mates are terrified about as much as you are turned on. Spider’s laughter sends you out as you leave, your cheeks burn, you're short of breath, and you’re definitely touching yourself tonight. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

That night you climax thinking of Spider breaking a stupid shell, and you don’t understand how can that be so damn hot because this was weird from the very beginning, and you can’t believe how low you’ve sunk. You fall asleep tired of your own horny self. 

You do not expect to dream of Cayde after a day like this. 

“Finally, a friendly face.” You breathe out. You’re both on the Tower, watching over the city in Zavala’s usual spot. You two aside, the Tower is deserted. 

“Tell me about it. I thought death would bring us all together but it turns out, I _still_ have to travel like, two thousand miles whenever I want to visit a distant relative. What a rip-off!” 

You laugh and realize you haven't done so in a while. 

“I miss you, Cayde.” 

“Aww, I miss you too, kid.” 

“No, really. I’ve felt... alone for a while now.” You shift. “You were closest I had to family. Hell, what all of us had.” 

“Well now you’re just _trying_ to make me blush, and I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way for Exo’s. But we’re not here to talk about me. Rather, I’m here to be the wise sage I told you I’d be.” 

“Think you can help? I’m kinda screwed up.” 

“Seeing as I’m likely a reflection of your subconscious self, I believe I can tell you more than you think you know.” 

“... Right.” You pause and bow. “Doing a great job, oh wise sage.” 

“Thank you! I knew my mom had a point. Take that, dad!” He playfully leans against the railing. 

“... This is too strange.” You shake your head, chuckling. 

“What is?” 

“This is too lucid. Dreams are supposed to be... illogical.” 

“Well, I mean if it would help, I’ll be glad to turn into a chicken or something.” 

“... Nah, you’re good.” 

“In that case, lay it on me. What bothers you?” 

“You know very well what bothers me!” 

“Don’t doubt the words nor ways of a wise sage.” Cayde lectures you. At this point, you've ran out of air chuckling at his nonsense. 

“You know well that it’s all... it’s all that damn bug’s fault!” You finally snap. 

“Arachnid, aaand I think that might be kinda racist.” 

“I can’t look at his face a single time without—I just wanna grab his stupid arms and—Those goddamn eyes, I wanna like—He is _so_ \--” 

“You want to bed the Spider. Got it. Mildly put too, because judging from your fantasies, whoo boy. That’s _wild_.” 

You groan and pull the cape over your face. It doesn’t help with the feeling of shame. 

“Well, that’s kinda rude, y’see.” Cayde begins. “How do you think he’d feel if he knew you’re ashamed about it.” 

“You don’t exactly see a lot of us here being attracted to Eliksni, so I _really_ don’t care.” You shift. “It’s weird.” 

“You use that word way too freely.” The wise sage Cayde pauses. “... I don’t think you genuinely feel ashamed. You’re just apprehensive about what everyone else might think.” 

“... Isn’t that the same as being ashamed?” 

“A bit. But your source of shame is other people. Not yourself.” He pauses as he gives you a mischievous look. “I think you’re perfectly happy with being yourself, weird as you might be. And I mean, come on - the Spider?” He whistles. “Definitely in the top twenty. Never was a bad choice to begin with.” 

You laugh, and feel a bit lighter already. 

“... Well when you put it that way, it really does seem like I’m finding problems where there aren’t any.” 

“See? I knew you’d get it.” He slaps your back playfully. “I’ll let you ponder over that, because it’s high time for me to turn into a chicken.” 

“What?” 

“It was the plan all along.” 

Cayde is gone, an Exo chicken in his place. You pet it before it bock-bock's away, and you sit there, dreaming, slowly realizing that maybe, just maybe, all your problems might disappear if you decide not to give a damn. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

There is a small box that arrives for Spider the next day, in the hands of one of his lackeys. They don’t know the guardians by name, and all they can say is that ‘it was a Hunter’.

The contents of the box are simple. It’s the pieces of the shell he broke into your palm... put together as best as you could manage. It is a clumsy, beginners’ work, done by hand with only the most basic of tools; it doesn’t _look_ polished... But the shell holds, strongly. You know he’ll at the very least have to try harder than the last time to break it, and that little fact alone makes you glow. You think of writing something along the lines of 'what doesn't destroy you, empowers you', but for some reason you find it cheesy. The message seems clear enough, as it is.

On the morning of the next day, you receive a simple, anonymously typed message.

_There is no end to things I can do to make you stronger._

You’re confused for a moment. Spider's backwards language, you remember. So what is he...?

 _I think he says he’ll totally ravage you in every possible way, given the chance should occur._

“Dammit, Cayde.” You whisper, and helplessly grin at the entire situation. You have a few more minutes to spare. You take your time and proceed to stare at the message as if it were nature's greatest aphrodisiac, as if it will magically bring the Spider right into your lodgings, as if these words alone are enough to get you going to the point where you're late to meet your Fireteam because those words hide so much of what you want behind them, and if you read them enough times, you might have a good excuse for not coming on time.

.

.

.

No such thing happens... but you love, love, _love_ imagining it does.


	3. Chapter 3

Life of a Guardian is, technically, not that complicated. You get up, you get busy, death is somewhere in between but by the end of the day, you're back safe in your bed. Bounties and missions on a daily basis are a-plenty, with time to spare if you do it well. At this calamitous day and age, with Earth still far from resembling the paradise it once was, an action-packed life is exactly the kind of simplicity a Guardian can sink into and even enjoy. 

Occasionally however, there are... ‘office’ jobs. You’re not sure what else to call them but when the day is slow and all the alien pests subdued, Guardians often help out. Some find the mundane aspect of it rather exciting. Some do it to get some deserved rest. While you do prefer the action parts, there are occasions when you appreciate the change of surroundings when it happens. Today, Zavala has tasked you with one such job. You don’t mind having a day at the desk; it is a comfy change of pace, usually doesn't take up too much time, and you might finally get around to reading of one of those old books from the pre-Traveller era.

“You’ve been working hard out there in the field, Guardian.” Zavala says, completely oblivious of the fact you’ve been working hard so as to not think about that sexy, bug-faced bastard all the time. Which is ironic because... “I need someone to get in contact with the Spider.” 

This, of all things, does not suit the description of a simple day. 

“I figured you wouldn’t mind taking on some... not as exciting tasks, for a change.” Zavala continues. “I heard from some of your team mates he’s been holding you in pretty high regard, so I think you’ll do a good job not succumbing to some of his... _less practical_ demands.” 

_Those cowards_ , you think to yourself. Spider was hardly _that_ frightening but perhaps his little show-and-tell with the Ghost's shell from the last time did place fear in their bones. Then again, you _might_ be a little biased, given the, uh... circumstances. Resigned to spend the better part of the day in this questionably entertaining position, you hear Zavala out. 

The crime lord requires someone to arrange a series of meetings between Guardians and some of his men all over the Tangled Shore throughout the next few days, in preparation for a large-scale fight between several gangs. The operation sounds and is bound to be exciting but organizing the details is not nearly as interesting. It is a simple job, Zavala says, perhaps requiring a bit of social maneuvering, because the Spider is not always willing to risk his men and keeps trying to get more Guardians to do the Spider's job for him, and you know what, **fuck** that call, you didn’t really sign up for a whole day of being distracted by that _rough_ , gravelly, mind-melting voice of his. 

Of course, you don’t say any of that to Zavala, instead nodding your head in agreement. 

“He’ll be waiting for your call precisely at noon. Eyes up, Guardian.” 

Maybe you fret too much – isn’t your Ghost handling the majority of communications of this kind? He usually does. You shouldn’t worry about anything _too_ odd being said. 

“I find myself not feeling comfortable communicating with... that person.” Your Ghost says when you two remain alone, as nicely as he can manage. What he probably means is ‘ _listen, I’m not spending the day talking to someone who literally wants to add my body to his collection_ ’. 

You can’t find any fault with his argument, and let him sleep in your bag for the duration of the conversation. Perhaps for the best, you think to yourself. If he isn’t going to be listening in, you might have a relatively amusing time throwing subtly inappropriate lines at the Eliksni. 

It’s close to noon when you boot up the voice comms, and speak: 

“Tower to the Spider,” you pause, thinking for a moment, then proceed, “your Guardian is on standby, ready for your cooperation.” 

You hear gravelly laughter coming from the other side, and get goosebumps. 

“ _A fine choice of words, Light-bearer._ ” 

“You’ll let me know when it isn't, I’m sure.” There is an audible smile in your voice. You are pretty sure can hear him being just as amused by the situation. 

… Whatever name there is for a situation like this. 

“ _Hm!_ _... Indeed, I like looking after things that I... indulge in_.” 

You can’t help laughing. “As pedantic as always, I bet.” 

“ _I’ll show you personally how pedantic I can be_.” 

That... didn’t take long to escalate. You wonder if he is doing this on accident because he's doing it _too_ well. Hotness still in your face, you clear your throat and suggest you get to work. 

“ _Thought you’d never want to ask._ ” Spider lazily replies. You don’t have much room for conversation after that anyway but having started off in a manner like this, you figured you can take it easy. 

The two of you send information back and forth through the console, deciding on places and time stamps of the mission, discussing the numbers you’re sending in. There are shipments that need approving, lesser complications that you need to sort out among yourselves but you both remain adamantly professional in your task, and for some reason Spider doesn’t try to undercut you at any point, though he occasionally like to playfully ‘threaten’ his displeasure at how things are proceedings. Every once in a while, as you wrap an issue up, the communication falters or stops, whether it’s because Spider shuffles off for a spell or because you’re both preoccupied with whatever obligation you got. 

A couple of hours go by in slow, comfy manner like that, and you both sink into a silence as it draws near to an end. You’re deftly typing up messages to guardians you’ll be sending out, sorting the lone wolves into little squads, and giving the Fireteams a whole different assortment of instructions. It is not necessarily boring but the serenity of such a simple job is not something you’re used to. You stretch in your seat, wondering if you could ever get used to more of this. 

As you ponder about it, it comes to your mind that mundane sort of work like this is not something you were expecting the Spider to take up. 

“... So. Slow day over there?” You try, not sure if he's up for casual chit-chat of any kind. The Spider hums, and for a moment is quiet. You imagine he got the gist of your question, and wonder if he'll even deem the question worthy of reply.

“... Not a single one of my men here can speak your damn language.” He says with the sort of frustration you can tell he kept in all day. “Not the ones currently present, anyway. 

You grin at how normal he sounds. “How _convenient_.” 

He laughs. “ _For you or for me, light-bearer?_ ” 

“I guess you could call it a... mutually beneficial convenience.” 

You can just barely hear him mumbling something but can’t figure out what. 

“... _You learn quick.”_ He finally says.

 _“_ Taught by the best, wasn’t I?” 

“ _And don’t_ _you_ _forget that._ ” 

Short silence. He slowly speaks up. 

“ _It is not every day that someone of my..._ ” pause, “ _occupation..._ i _ndulges in the simplicity of work like this._ ” 

… You think how strangely down-to-Earth that entire sentence was. Coming from him, that is. 

“Same. Though field work suits me better, this is strangely...” You search for a word. Strangely...? 

“... _Humbling_.” 

_Of all the words the Spider himself would choose!_ The laughing voice of Cayde-6 wakes up, and you do your best not to react to it. Instead, somewhat taken aback, you teasingly reply: 

“Didn’t know there was a capacity for that in you.” 

You hear him chuckling again. “ _It’ll be our little secret._ ” He replies in what you imagine is both banter and a threat, then continues: “ _We all started somewhere, Guardian. Remembering your roots can be profitable.”_

You scoff. You started on a heap of metal in Old Russia, as far as you’re concerned. You’d rather not delve on the fact any and all memory of life you once lived has been permanently lost to you. Delve too long on it, and an existential crisis just might set in. 

… That sounded a lot like a thing Cayde might say. 

_I would but you thought it before I could open my mouth._

You clench your jaw, determined on not letting the imaginary Exo take over your train of thought. 

“So, what use did you get out of it?” 

“ _Insight_.” Spider says briefly. He doesn’t explain his answer but continues with a hint of pride. “ _It is rare that I pull the short end of a stick when a proposition is struck._ ” 

Some part of you that perpetually resides deep in the gutters of your mind must’ve grown impatient, because you decide enough is enough. You clear your throat, make sure to use what you hope is the sexiest of voices you can manage, and whisper back: “There are _some_ propositions we’d both be certain to... 'profit' of.” 

There is a frighteningly long silence in the other end, during which the voice of imaginary Cayde lets out an impressed whistle. When the Spider speaks again, it is in a low, terrifying growl which sends a shiver down your spine with how much it excites you. 

“ _Tread carefully, little Guardian.”_ He gradually begins. _“Some deals you can’t back out of easily._ ” 

You reply just as slowly: “Who is to say I would?” 

“ _You might get more than you bargained for._ ” 

“I’m sure it _will_ be worth it.” 

“ _Indeed? And_ _h_ _ow so?_ ” 

“It’s been worth it _plenty_ of nights, now.” 

There is a thud on the other side. You’re pretty sure it was a fist against something. If this really is going the way you think it is, you’re both under the influence of an insatiable craving to touch each other in ways you could only imagine thus far and holy Hell, you can't believe it to be true. The presence of mere _opportunity_ to do so stops your breath. It quickens his. You revel in the fact you're not just flirty entertainment. You are _wanted_. It gives you all the courage you lacked thus far.

“ _Guardian_.” He growls. Is it possible he ran out of words? You decide he needs an extra nudge.

“Even last night was particularly... _gratifying_.”

You can actually hear a disbelieving chuckle on the other side. It's almost _human._ “... You are serious, aren’t you?” 

You realize this is the most you’ve ever heard of him being... direct. The Spider is not someone who makes himself vulnerable – in any way – at all.

… Perhaps he needs you to take it all a firm step further. Perhaps he needs you to know you want one thing from him only, and that this is not some roundabout attempt at deceiving him, taking advantage of him, or luring him into a trap.

“My mistake,” you start slowly, “I suppose I wasn’t clear enough in stating my... desire to...” You search for the right word but your own, overly excited brain short circuits right there because it recalls last night and the fantasy you had of those arms pinning you down against the bed, rough hands getting rid of your clothes, _teeth grazing against your neck-_

The Spider does not show you any mercy. 

“ **What** is it you desire from **me** , Guardian?” Anger and impatience bathe his voice, and-

“Not _from_ you... **You**.” You can’t believe you’re doing this. “I desire _you_.” You imagine his reaction to your words, imagine his breath halting, him shifting in his seat at the sound of your confession, as the realization fully sinks in. The room is warmer, it's hard to breathe but in your stomach is nothing but the cold, sheer magnitude of what you just said, feeling like a block of ice only his words can melt. You didn’t expect it to be both a biggest relief of your life, and the most terrifying thing you’ve ever done. He could kill you (or try, anyway) tomorrow if he wanted. He could ostracize you from the entirety of the Shore if his whim told him to. He could cut you out of his circle completely if he didn’t like a single thing about what you’ve told him. 

… But you wouldn't have told him what you have if you didn’t know; know for sure that he’s been waiting for you to dance straight into his web, willingly. For better or for worse? It wasn’t time to think of what future might bring. It was this moment that mattered, this moment that you both waited for. Did you know, in hindsight, that this would happen? You dreamed it, you willed it. Now that it had... 

Silence reigns on the comms but not a bad one. Spider is Spider after all, and if this doesn’t happen according to how he wants it, you know, it might not happen at all. So, you wait. Patiently. 

“ _Guardian_.” The voice takes on a tone he usually keeps in store for his usual clients. You silently get yourself together, suddenly all too aware of your own body. 

“Yes?” You formally reply. 

“ _I have a proposition for you_.” **_I desire you, too_** ; he probably means. You smile. 

“When should we discuss the details?” _Whenever it pleases you._ You mean to imply. 

“ _Come by any day you’re able... no rush._ ” **_As soon as you can._ **

“I’ll try to make it soon.” _Have_ _p_ _atience._

“ _Try as best as you can._ ” **_I have_** ** _run_** ** _out of patience._ **

“Until then.” _You’re telling_ ** _me_** _._

You’re about to cut the comms when... 

_“_ _Oh, and Guardian?_ ” 

“Yeah?” 

For a moment he is quiet. 

“ _It was a pleasure doing business with you.”_

“Likewise. Until the next time we do.” 

. 

. 

. 

The call ends. You shuffle away from the console, knees shaking slightly, and lean against the wall, enjoying its coolness. The imaginary Cayde follows suit. 

_See? That wasn’t so hard._

“Could have gone terrible.” You admit your fears with a chuckle. 

You look over where you can now not only hear but see Cayde. You wonder when was it that you had lost your mind but don’t question it for now. You’ll visit a physician one of these days. 

“It’s nice to see you, Cayde.” 

He winks. _You too, kid. Let's e_ _njoy it while it lasts._

You turn your head away from him, close your eyes and slide down the wall. 

Life of a Guardian sure is simple, you thought. Another day, another mission, another temporary death, and another day all over again. Cleansing the human domain, keeping the peace, upholding justice. There was beauty in it of all kinds. 

But today... _just_ today, thanks to an ironic twist of fate... this was so much better.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

You dream, as one does after a day like that, _all_ night. Nothing is focused. You dream of arms and hands yet again, touching and checking and teasing but only briefly before the images and the sensations disappears. You dream of his eyes gleaming in the darkness, searching, hunting for you. It’s a game you like to play. You dream of his body, heavy and big yet moving deftly and confidently. You briefly wonder if Spider ever fought someone, before you awaken for what seems like a millionth time. Peaceful dreams do not come to you, and you greet the morning needing to grab an energy drink alongside your coffee. You are not a fan of either but caffeine does work its magic. 

You thought you’d have a better head on your shoulders after you slept through the intensity that was yesterday’s day but if anything, you realize the time is coming soon when you’ll get the chance to reap what you sowed and though you can’t wait for it, you also realize you might not have a single clue on what you’re getting yourself into. Sure, you had your share of... experiences here in the Last City, with all kinds of people. Not with an actual alien, though. Not with an Eliksni. Not with a crime lord who will take any and every opportunity to take advantage of anything he can and _oh by the Light what have you gotten yourself into._

Still, you wouldn’t call what you feel fear, nor nervousness. You don’t think that you’ll end up used and dead in a ditch somewhere, and you suspect that he wouldn’t hold it against you even if you got cold feet. Rather, you are concerned that things might go far worse than your fantasies might imply. Whatever awkwardness might ensue from that scenario, is what concerns you. 

At the end of the day, as the voice and image of late Cayde-6 keeps telling you, it’s far too early to think about those things. 

Speaking of which... 

“... So,” the physician says after a lengthy conversation, looking at you suspiciously above the rim of her glasses, “you can hear and see him but you can’t feel him by touch?” 

“I don’t think I even tried. I mean I _know_ he’s not there.” You try to explain. “When I see him, it... sort of feels like he might disappear at any moment, and I’m completely aware of the reality of things. He just keeps appearing when certain situations arise.” 

“Like what?” 

It occurs to you, once again, it was Cayde’s death that prompted your meeting with the Spider to begin with. You find the connection between the memory of Cayde and your developing desires... morbidly disgusting, if you’re being honest. 

You can’t be honest, however. 

“Minor stresses. You know. Life.” 

She makes a face. She knows you’re not telling her what you should but leaves it well enough alone. YOu wouldn’t tell her even if she asked a hundred times. 

“No migraines? Vertigos? Blackouts?” 

“None. As far as I’m concerned, souls of dead friends aside, everything is _peachy_.” 

“Well,” she takes off her glasses, “while it might still be too early to tell, it is highly likely you suffer from a minor form of post-traumatic stress disorder. Given your line of work, and the death of your friend and mentor, it’s not... uncommon.” 

“I’m perfectly fine.” You insist. She shrugs. 

“Sometimes, we’re not aware of the burdens we carry until they break us.” She scribbles something down and reaches into her cabinet for a small bottle. “If you keep having troubled dreams or trouble sleeping, have one of these with a glass of water an hour before bedtime. I would like you to visit me in one weeks' time, just to see if there’s any progress, for better or worse.” 

Not being able nor willing to tell her exactly what your issues encompass, since your uncontrollable libido is your own damn business, you decide you’ll have to figure it out yourself. 

_It is honestly unbelievable that you haven’t figured it out already!_ Imaginary Cayde says _. I swear, if I were not gone, I would be offended._

“I wish my subconscious were more useful than to reprimand me about things I can’t control.” You mumble as you make your way back towards the Tower. “If you know what it is that spawns you before my eyes in the first place, I’d love for you to spit it out already.” 

_That’s not how subconscious works, I think. It’s just here to kind of mess with you, and prompt you into learning things yourself._

“You know, you were more useful when you were alive.” 

_OK,_ **_now_ ** _I’m offended!_

You laugh at the imaginary friend at your side and-- 

Oh by the Light, is that what this is? An imaginary friend? 

_If you wish to call me so, I won’t mind! Weirder things have been going on in your head._

You decide to firmly ignore him. He takes that silently. 

“Guardian? Are you alright?” Your Ghost, who has only today been brought up to speed about your... ‘hallucinations’, sounds more concerned than you like. 

“Just talking to Cayde over here.” You try a joke. Your honesty catches him unprepared and he says nothing further. You sigh again. “Sorry. Don’t worry about it... Whatever it is, I’ll handle it. It’ll sort itself out sooner or later.” 

“ **We** ’ll handle it. Remember, I’m here for you when you need me.” 

You smile gratefully, wishing your Ghost were able to help you. Wishing you could find the courage to tell him. Unfortunately, the list of things you can’t find the guts to talk about only seems to grow. First Spider, now all-too-real-Cayde connected directly to him in ways you can’t figure quite out. What is going on with you? 

“Thank you, I’ll... keep it in mind.” 

“As you should. We’ve been together through thick and thin. No matter what happens, I’m there for you.” 

You feel like you might cry but of course you don’t. 

You never do. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Your potentially mind-damaging troubles take a second place several days later, when you realize your afternoon is completely void of duties. Any and all worries about what is it that brings the hallucinations of Cayde into your life are gone; today, your plan, by all means, is to visit that asshole on the Tangled Shore and use him for all he is worth. 

Holy shit, this is **happening**. 

_I’ll_ _say_ _!_ Cayde quips in and again, you do your best to ignore him. 

You spend the morning patrolling the Cosmodrome. Cayde, hallucinatory as he might be, actually keeps you company, because it’s largely empty and your Fireteam decided to find work elsewhere. You drive out a small settlement of Hive thralls but aside from that, it is strangely deserted. You listen to him jabber on about all thing logical and illogical, and for a while, allow yourself to believe he is really there. You don’t talk back, not audibly, not wanting your Ghost to concern himself. Turns out, listening to your own imaginary friend can be therapeutic. 

Afternoon comes too soon and you watch as the Sun slowly set over the ruins of the Earth. It feels nostalgic, which is weird. You haven’t been resurrected for long. You shouldn’t be nostalgic about any of this. 

So why...? 

You feel strangely disconnected from the world for a moment, and shake your head. You didn’t come here to contemplate your short-lived existence. You have a potentially hot meeting to attend. 

“Time to pay his Highness a visit.” You mumble. 

“Who are you talking about?” 

“Just a friend.” You tell your Ghost. “I’ll uh... need some privacy, if that’s alright.” 

“Understood. Until you need me, Guardian.” 

“You’ll know when I do.” 

You make your way to the Tangled Shore. You don’t keep track of how long does it take you to get there but by the time you reach it, it’s night. You didn’t plan on coming here so late but figure you don’t really care. 

The air on the Tangled Shore is as strangely fickle as it has been for the past couple of weeks. Much to your chagrin, you have no choice but to wear your helmet, if you want to breathe. You don’t mind, because the last thing you need is Spider commenting on the very obvious lustful thoughts you have all the time written all over your dumb face. 

When you walk into Spider’s den, he is nowhere to be seen, his ‘throne’ gaping empty. It is a very unusual sight. Two of his guards regard you, closing up on you, then visibly more relaxed. Seems like they know you, consider you friendly even. 

One says something but you have to admit, you don’t know a single word of their language. 

“Sorry... I don’t understand.” 

He makes a sound that you gather might be akin to frustration. The other gestures, pointing first to you, then to a hallway to the left. 

“Thanks.” 

They seem to understand that, because they both retreat to their posts. 

You follow the hallway that leads into what looks like a small, improvised workshop or an office of some sort but not much else. You’ve been here before but never stuck around. There is not much to see. So where...? 

Then a wall opens up a crack. A door, then. Ah. 

You walk up to it and slowly pull it open. It’s heavy, and you need both your arms and most of your strength to pull it open wide enough to go through. Being considerate of his secrecy (and yours), you push the heavy door shut behind you. It does so with a loud, grating sound of a lock falling, and you realize you’re locked in. Your heart races at the idea of being trapped here with him. 

Behind the door is a short hallway, completely bathed in dark. On the end of it is a room. From what you can gather, standing where you do, it looks very much like the rest of the Spider’s hideout, old and derelict, pipes snaking the walls. When you finally walk in there, you realize it’s much bigger than it seemed. 

The space you entered is dark, almost entirely made of metal, and largely bare. There is a set of uncomfortable looking couches and chairs in the middle, as well as a single slab of metal you realize is a low table, and a fluorescent lamp burning on it. You figure this is where the Spider conducts the more secretive (or private) of his meetings. The entirety of the room sends shivers down your spine. You don’t want to know the kind of things that went down here, how many people know about this room. What secret business were being conducted, destroying lives and plans? People perishing behind these doors, never to be seen again? More people, with agenda like yours? Any and all possibilities excite you, though you hope some of them are less true than the others. 

A single door, which is usually clearly disguised as the part of the wall, is on the far side, from where a warmer sort of light spills into the otherwise cold room. You slowly cross over to it, again pulling the door shut behind you. When you turn around, you can’t help but gasp, realizing you must be in the most personal space of his you’ll find on the Earth because for all intents and purposes, it looks like... a _home_. You take the time to thoroughly explore it. 

Though covered in pipes as the rest of his hideout, and largely metal, there are so many things that make the huge room pleasant to be in. One wall of it is messily covered in various paintings of people, flora and fauna, and interpretations of Earthly scenes that wary from live in caves to modern buildings. All the frames are made of particularly shiny glass. In between the pictures are small lights, randomly hanged, illuminating the room weakly and throwing interesting, intricate patterns all around. There is a massive book of leather open on a nearby round table, dried flowers inside. Herbarium, you remember it’s called. Surrounding it are various plants. You wonder if Spider does these himself in his time off, or if he has someone do it for him. You can hardly imagine him walking the Shore looking for flora. Him sitting here, however, cozying up with a bottle of liquor and growing his collection trapping once living things in a book? Makes sort of sense. 

You go around a cozy sitting set which looks nothing like the one from the room in the back. There is a bottle of golden liquor and two glasses on a low wooden table between the comfy armchair and a sofa. Classy. Some sort of ambiance tune, barely audible, can be heard, likely playing merely to cut the dead silence. 

An enormous bookcase covers the entirety of the furthest wall. You briefly wonder, and feel almost as if you know, that there is a passage behind it. You can imagine him getting a kick out of an extra secret in his abode. The books that grace its shelves are exceedingly rare works of literature. You can’t help feeling envious. 

The most out-of-place thing by far is a huge armoire of glass with a variety of Ghost shells, neatly placed next to each other. From what you can tell, these are rarer than the most. There is even a name for each individual shell on a small plaque underneath it. 

The scary, morbid thing about it is that it looks... _pretty_. You try not to think about the fact these used to house little Lights once before. Items. Just items, now. 

The final door slides opens just before you can get to it, pressed between the bookcase and the collection of useless Shells, and the big bug himself appears right before you and oh... 

_Oh_. 

It just occurs to you that you've never seen him outside his usual setting. It is almost disturbing... in a good way. If that's a thing that exists.

The very first thing you can’t help noticing is that he is _tall._ As in… at least eight feet tall. The part of your mind that resides in the gutter briefly wonders how this’ll work before deciding not to concern itself with it. You always knew he was a bigger guy but even your height of six pales before him. Then you realize this is the first time you don’t see him lazily slouching in his ‘throne’. You found him hot enough then as he was. And he is... well fuck, he is-- 

_Burly?_ _Muscular_ _? A total beefcake? I have a dictionary on me, if that’ll help._

Again, you firmly ignore him. 

… Though he does have a point. You realize you have just literally checked the Spider out from head to toe and ‘beefcake’ is pretty close to how you’d describe anyone of those proportions, except for the extra arms, fearsome electrifying eyes and _shit that’s hot_. 

You thank the Heavens you didn't take your helmet off, because your face is a display of so many emotions you’re not willing to show, and you might as well be cooking in your armor

You want to slap yourself both mentally and literally for having all these thoughts but opt for a cool silence instead. 

… You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to speak, or if it’s the other way around. Perhaps you surprised each other. Perhaps you’re both too excited to speak? You hope that’s the case. In the end, you say the first thing you noticed. 

“You’re taller than I first thought.” 

It comes out as a funny thing but in all honesty, it was just your brain trying to let off some steam before it short circuits. The Spider laughs. “You’re shorter than I initially perceived.” 

You’re so _unbelievably_ turned on. 

“Let’s hope all our misconceptions turn out to be this alluring.” 

The Spider walks slowly past you, and you get shivers from the brush of his arm against yours. “Knowing what I do about you, Guardian, there is going to be plenty more than that.” 

You really need to breathe but keep it silent. The Spider gestures for you to sit, and follows suit, sitting across from you. You try to appear relaxed but you doubt you’re succeeding in it. He proceeds to pour you both a drink. 

… This is all so _unbelievably_ mundane. 

“To all things pleasant.” He raises the glass. His has considerably more liquor in it but you assume he can take it, what with that... body. 

“And pleasurable.” You add flirtatiously, and hear him emit a quiet growl. You realize you haven’t seen him without his breathing apparatus before when he reaches for it. He takes it off in a single motion and you gasp. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen the Fallen maskless before. It’s just that... well to say the least, those teeth apparently have the capacity to bring out the best of the worst in you, and now that you’ve seen them—And that _face_ and that _jaw--_

You shift in your seat and cross your legs. It doesn’t help, so you uncross them. 

You briefly lift your own helmet because you are definitely going to need that drink more than those few seconds of air. In fact, you gesture to him for one more before you wear it again. 

He laughs, his teeth gleaming and you silently gasp. 

“Nervous, Guardian?” 

“Not at all.” You reply hoarsely as you down another. “What gives you the idea?” 

Holy _shit_ you’re nervous. But at least he’s playfully aware of it, so it’s not _that_ terrible. If you actually had to hide it from him, it would be twice as heavy of a burden to bear. 

… You realize he is not putting the apparatus back on again. 

“... Aren’t you...?” 

“... I had this space sealed off and equipped with proper purifiers, so I don’t have to wear the Hellish thing all the time.” He nudges at the mask lying on the couch. “It’s a pity you can’t do the same. I was looking forward to... observing your little face.” 

You know _exactly_ what kind of face he wanted to see. 

You love denying him that one thing you can, at least while the Shore’s air is being weird. 

“I’m sure we’ll come to it sooner or later.” You look around, looking for something else to say before you get to the obvious - you hope the liquor will kick in a little bit by then. “... By the way, this is the prettiest museum I’ve ever been in.” 

He follows your eyes. You can tell he enjoys the space he created very much, and you can tell he takes pride in it. You don’t expect the following words, though: “The collection here is highly private. It should give you an idea of... what you got yourself into.” 

Oh god it sounds both like a welcome and a warning. You think that perhaps, he's trying to scare you into quitting this whole affair. Better clear that up right away. You lean in, elbows on your knees, playing with the empty glass in your hands. 

“I think I had an idea before but now it sank in. I must admit...” You tilt your head a little bit. Thank Light for helmets and the air you need from them, because you wouldn’t dare to say this otherwise.   
“... I never fucked anyone in a museum.” 

The Spider is quicker than he appears, is your first thought when he suddenly grasps your forearm, already on his feet. The glass falls softly on a what you now noticed is a rich, lush carpet of black. What kind of material is that? 

_Eyes up, Guardian._ This time, the voice sounds strangely like your Ghost. By the Light, you’re going insane. But it does give you the courage. 

You meet the Spider’s gaze. 

“Little Guardian-” 

“ **Your** Guardian.” You correct, deciding this will not frighten you. "... Yours."

You can hear his labored breathing. Though you can’t exactly tell what kind of emotions go on in his eyes, you can tell that he’s battling a decision. You can tell he still doesn't trust you entirely.

Finally, he quietly goes on: “I don’t consider myself a generous nor a kind person, light-bearer. Keep that in mind when I tell you this.” He leans in closer. His teeth are inches from your concealed face. Those eyes take you in, unintentionally. “You may go if you wish right now, and find no harm from me. However... should your motives not be as you present them, you'll find the consequences to be... undesirable."

You nod. Of course he couldn't trust you right away - you were counting on it. "... I understand. And if my motives are true?" You ask, as sincerely as you can. You think he must've heard it in your voice, because he seems to soften, if only a bit.

"... If they are true...," Spider looks you up and down, "... this is your last chance to back down. You might not enjoy what I have in store for you.” He pauses. 

Next words of his come out very quietly, and... is that _concern_??

“I could get... carried away.” 

Ever so slowly, you lift your helmet. The air in here you can’t breathe but you’ll manage for a little while. You look at him for a moment, a coy smile dancing on your lips. 

“'Carried away?' Oh, Spider... Don't you understand?” 

You lean in… and plant a tender kiss right between his eyes. 

The sound he emits can only be called a purr. It surprises you a bit with how uncharacteristically cute it is. You lean back, fixing the helmet back on, and finally explain in a sinful whisper:

“... _I want you to_.”

The Spider lets go of your arm and rises to his full height. 

Then he offers you his hand.

“Follow me... **_my_** _Guardian_.” 


	5. Chapter 5

There are a few moments in your life where you became thoroughly unaware of your surroundings. Those many times you died, and waited for your Ghost to save you would be the majority of them. Then there’s that time you went into a temporary coma. That was weird. There’s also that afternoon earlier today, which you spent talking to imaginary Cayde. You can tell you weren’t quite yourself then. 

Then there is this, where you believe you must’ve floated from the couch you sat on, as you took Spider’s hand in yours, and followed him out of the comfort of his living space and into the last of the rooms of his private home. As you get the grasp of your surroundings, you realize you’re in a dimly lit room, the majority of which is occupied by a large, tall bed. 

_Holy shit, this is happening._

As if magically, those words in your head shake you back to reality and time is not weird anymore. Your instincts are back. You are fucking _doing_ this. 

As Spider turns to look at you, you let go of his hand, and walk over to the bed, as if you’ve done that very same thing right here thousands of times before, and prop yourself up on it. You cross your legs and lean back on your hands, tilt your head. You know this part of seductive song and dance by heart but with Spider, it’s difficult to tell how to go further. 

But you don’t want to keep him waiting. In a fit of bravado, you beckon him and whisper: 

“Come here.” 

It is hard to tell, because you haven’t had much chance to study Eliksni expressions but you’re pretty certain that’s a smile dancing around his teeth. He draws nearer slowly, every step a thud, every step matching three of your heartbeats. When he stops in front of you, looming over you, he regards you almost carefully; head to toe; sideways. You reach up. One of your hands takes one of his. The other aims for the loose edge of the shawl draped around his shoulders, and softly pulls at it. It slowly uncoils, and slips down to the floor, the soft noise it makes probably the loudest sound in the room. 

You’re silent, anticipating. Your hand squeezes his harder but you don’t know why it did that; you certainly didn’t will it to. You start to raise your unoccupied hand again so as to touch a part of him – any part of him – but he takes hold of that hand too, and then, unexpectedly, gets down on one knee before you, your eyes levelling. It is... well, it is strangely romantic. As far as your experience goes however, and not knowing his, neither him nor you know _exactly_ what the other one wants or needs. So, you wait. 

The other two arms rest at your thighs. You can feel warmth emanating from them, fingers gently caressing. You control yourself, waiting for whatever he plans to do. 

Then, he reaches up towards one of your shoulder plates and slowly, knowingly, starts unfixing it. 

_Oh_. 

One of the gauntlets slides off your arm. With him here, doing this for you, you feel almost as if it’s your first time exposing your naked skin to the air. 

The other gauntlet follows suit. He reaches up, lays his hands on your shoulders, and slowly, _slowly_ drags his hands down the skin of your arms. 

They feel vastly better than you thought they would, and in a moment’s time, you think dozens of thoughts about the sensation of it. You’re not exactly sure what was there to expect. Maybe odd coldness, or strange surface of it. Perhaps you imagined it would feel the way the skin of a snake or a shark looks like. Maybe it even crossed your mind that there was a possibility of the difference between your skin and his would disgust you. What surprised you in the end, is that the difference is not large. Skin to skin, you can feel the subtle variety in the texture of his palms. It’s... naturally calloused, you might call it, and it feels almost ticklish against the smoothness of your skin. As he reaches your wrists, you lift your hands up, taking off the rest of his headpiece. 

This continues in the utter silence, only a distant ambient melody present between you, and the sounds of your own breathing. You unfasten his shoulder armor, as he slowly unties your boots. You help him out of the chest piece, and try not to stare too hard at his strong frame right now – you'll have plenty of time to do so later. You remove the cover around his waist as he unfastens your leg armor and your belt, keeping his gaze stuck to your long legs. 

You both stop at the same time. Spider looks at you somewhat expectantly. 

Taking off your helmet is not an option, and you leave your cloak on because you frankly feel silly with your helmet alone. Spider will likely busy himself with the rest of you, anyway. Slowly, you reach for the latches in your chest piece, and take it off, then get rid of your top. He takes the view in thirstily, something akin to a snarl on his face. All that’s left is your shorts. Plain, black and, most importantly, very easy to get out of. 

Spider himself gets rid of the last of his leg covers. Your breathing intensifies. You don’t bother making it quiet anymore. 

Deftly, he reaches, hooks your sole piece of underwear by its rim, and neatly pulls it off. 

_Holy shit, you’re so horny and it is so clear._

You idly wonder how long would you be able to go without breathing, only for a chance to put your mouth on any part of his body. But you don’t have time to think about it. 

Strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to the edge of the bed, quickly, catching you by surprise. You don’t expect so many fingers on you so suddenly, touching your entire back, resting on your hips. Least of all, you don’t expect his mouth on your neck, hot breath tickling your skin. Before you can even react, you feel the sharp teeth grazing at you. 

You let out a shameless cry, goosebumps gracing your skin but he doesn't give you a moment to get used to these sudden, pleasurable sensations; his tongue lazily crosses over your collarbone and neck and _fuck_ it feels so rough and coarse, and one of the hands reaches down to the space between your legs and _fuck that’s so sudden but it feels so good._ You feel like you’re ready to finish right then and there but you don’t really give a damn, because you’re sure it won’t be a single time you do. The hand between your legs works tirelessly, wet with your fluids, your gasps and breath turn into moans that you can’t hide into the sheets or your palm or anywhere, and his name escapes from you lips several times, telling him, too much, too much, _too much but_ **_don’t_ ** _stop_! 

He was not joking when he warned you about his eagerness. Your throw your arms around his neck, clutching desperately, feeling his firm skin with your fingertips, and hear him make an appreciative sound at it. He doesn’t stop though, the hungry dance of teeth and tongue effortlessly gracing your skin with red marks, his hand still working on you, and fuck, so so close- 

His hand does _something and_ you finish all over it, way sooner than you thought it would come to it. The best part is, you know this was just an appetizer. Your hunger isn’t nearly as satiated, and this was but a first step to the kind of relief you haven’t felt in way too long. 

“You’re... off to a... promising start.” You breathe out, and the Spider chuckles sinfully into your ear. 

“You have seen nothing yet, my Guardian.” 

_Fuck._

“I’ve... shown you little, too.” You start. “Let me make up for that.” 

Maneuvering your arms, you make a point of scraping your nails – not very gently, either – across the space of his neck, where his skin is largely exposed. The Spider hisses, and buries his face in the crook of your neck. You haven’t heard that sound before but clearly, it’s a good one. You trace your finger down his neck and across his back until you reach the shells covering his skin, running your fingers firmly along their border. Just barely, he shivers, hisses turning into growls. You can feel something hot and firm against your leg, and when you realize what it is, you can barely contain your excitement. 

“You are full of surprises.” You hear him breathe out. The Spider pushes you back and stands up, giving you a rich view of his now fully displayed body, and you’re glad, for who knows what time, that he can’t see your face because you must look like a person starved when you see his body, the broad shoulders and strong, shell-plated chest, the belly you can imagine will rub firmly against yours, strong, bare arms that could hold you down as if you belonged nowhere else but there, beneath him... and then _this_. 

The anatomy of his member does not look _too_ foreign. Perhaps less smooth and more... _bumpy._ There is also no excess of skin on it, like with human bodies. Similar in colour to the rest of him, it is significantly bigger than any you’ve ever seen. There is a part of the shaft - the middle of it – that looks as if it’s encased in a material similar to the shell on his body, if more malleable. You’re looking forward to seeing how it feels _very_ much. 

The most distinguished part of it has to be the... tip. 

Similar to what you know, yet... 

Completely _black_ and _void_ of colour. 

You’re not sure if that’s terrifying or hot or both. 

Summary: Different, for sure. Unusual, yes. Desirable? 

_One hundred fucking percent._

“Wow.” You can’t help it. 

“Let me see the scope of your talents, my Guardian.” The Spider challenges and fuck, okay, you are prepared for this. You _know_ what to do. Well, you _think_ you know what to do but there is fun in experimenting. 

“I said it before, didn't I? I will not disappoint you.” You gently touch the base first, where he lets out a soft hum. You trace your fingers up it slowly, and – wondering for a moment if you should try something different, and well of course you should - feeling for the skin in-between the small shell plates, and you can tell he enjoys it when it twitches. Truly, you think to yourself with a smile, not all that different. 

You reach the tip and gently touch it and are surprised when Spider recoils. You look up at him. Fuck, that’s a _sexy_ face he’s making. 

“Too soon?” You tease. 

“Not soon **enough**.” The Spider growls back. You laugh playfully at that display of impatience 

“Don’t mind if I end your wait, then.” You say and continue to touch at his tip, gently encircling it with the very tips of your fingers. Spider narrows his eyes as he looks down at you, his hands clutching at your shoulder. 

You can tell what he wants. 

You can tell he wasn’t expecting for your damn helmet to be a necessity. 

… You consider carefully how long could you go without oxygen. 

… A minute tops should be fine. 

“... Count to sixty for me please.” You say as sexily as you can say such a thing, take a large breath of air, and take your helmet off. 

You imagine you must look like a very alluring mess, because Spider can’t take his widened eyes off you, and he hardens in your hands. You lick your lips, flash him your best smile, and make absolute certain you look him straight in the eyes as you lick the whole, impressive size of his tip. 

Spiders’ hands clutch nearly painfully on your shoulders and his breathing is anything but controlled. He curses and lets out a truly loud growl. Another one of his hands sneak to the back of your head. You can tell he’s trying his best not to push, rather opting for tangling his fingers in your hair. You appreciate it, and rewards him by taking the whole of his tip into your, frankly, quite eager mouth. 

The taste of it is foreign, musky and almost _peppery._ It is wider than you’d anticipated but you don’t let that stop you – you have less than a minute at best to make this worth your time. Plus... this feels _really_ good, the tip softer than the rest of him, easily bending before the work your tongue and lips give it. The hand that is not working on him, is working on your own, still eager space between your legs. 

The Eliksni accidentally twitches deeper into your mouth but you, being short on time and understanding perfectly how shamelessly turned on you both seem, are quick to forgive it. 

“G-Guardian...” You made the Spider stutter, and that has to be worth something. You hum with your mouth full of him and clearly, he can feel it, because he nearly doubles over you. He pronounces something in his own language, a short, loud string of clicky words you can only imagine are swear words. The thought amuses you, and you moan louder into him. He gasps. Hearing him out of his usual element is so hot. 

“You have to...” You hear him barely say, and lose track of the rest. Is the time up already? Shame. The hands in your hair grip tighter. At this point, if you don’t let go, he might _really_ forget himself. Better not to risk it, fun as it may seem to you. 

With a resigning hum, you retreat and separate your mouth from him with a tasty ‘pop’. 

It is only as you put your helmet back on that you realize you really needed the air. Spider looks at you almost accusingly, his breathing slowly getting steadier. 

“You drive a hard bargain, light-bearer.” 

Oh, he is _sexy_ when he’s angry. You cock your head at him. 

“Yeah? _What_ _are you going to do about it?_ ” 

You don’t regret a single thing as the Spider pushes you onto the bed, locking your wrists in place. 

“Many things, my Guardian.” He grins at you. “ _So_ many things.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One. 
> 
> :)


	6. Chapter 6

It was... what, a month or two ago? It was, you guess. 

It was a month or two ago, when you brought one of the bounties back to Spider, that this spark was first ignited in you – in both of you, you imagine. The Spider intrigued you from the very beginning, both as a person of interest, and someone with a witty sense of humour. But it was well after all that business with the Barons that you once came to him after a job, to discuss your ever expanding debt. You didn't really ‘discuss’ it, per se. You just wanted to get a rise out of him, or maybe establish your confidence before him, because at that point, you had to admit you kinda liked the guy. Not _like_ liked, but you did enjoy... something. About him. You thought. 

… Okay, you might have _like_ liked him but not _that_ much. If you had known back then that this preference of yours could shift so easily, who knows? Maybe you wouldn’t have done this to begin with. 

“... You seem to be taking this debt of mine for granted.” You ‘complained’ once, grinning beneath the safety of your helmet. “Haven't you got a real job for me? I’m sure I can do something vastly more useful for you.” 

“I'm afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, Guardian.” He lazily said. “But I’ll make sure to call for you when I need you for something special.” 

“Ah, I guess there’s a first time for everything.” 

“... What is that supposed to mean?” 

You shrugged. “’Never been so flat out rejected before.” 

It was clearly a stupid joke, and it was clearly work of your late friend whom you miss terribly. You don’t have a clue why you would have said it otherwise. You opened your mouth to say anything that would make him forget it- 

“Why, don’t be harsh on yourself, Guardian. Like I said,” he leaned in in his seat, and you could hear the smile in his voice, “ _I’ll call you when I need to use you for something... special_.” 

You have both laughed it off at the time. 

This is where you are today. In his bed. Naked. Getting nibbled on. 

In hindsight, he wasn’t lying. Didn’t all of this start with a call? You wonder if it was planned. You quit wondering soon enough, because the Spider himself is going down on you and you really shouldn’t be thinking about anything aside from that. 

The full extent of the wondrous things he’ll do with those extra arms of his becomes prominent very quickly; your wrists are firmly planted to your sides, and the secondary pair of Spider’s surprisingly dexterous arms has spread your legs, his fingers caressing your inner thighs. You’re pretty sure it’s obvious how much this turns you on but just to make sure he’s aware of it, you allow yourself to let out a series of soft, indulgent sounds, which you _totally_ have control of otherwise. Totally. 

Though his mouth has so far been largely busy with leaving marks on the skin of your chest, it slowly goes lower, nibbling at your sides, dipping a tongue into your belly button briefly. He pauses _just_ above the point where you need him to touch you. That _bastard_. 

“ _Would you_ **_kindly_ **...” You begin, and suddenly swear, because his tongue has trailed the full distance from your backside to the front. You didn’t perceive that tongue to be that long... Or agile. 

… It comes to your mind that Spider’s idea of teasing isn’t to deny you the necessary stimulation. It is to go _overboard_ with it. 

… You think you won’t mind that. 

“ _Fuck_!” You jump with surprise when his tongue lingers on your backside, slowly and firmly making its way into you. The fact that his mandibles gently prick your skin as he does so, makes you positively-- 

“Ah, no- dammit, _yes,_ wait!” You say these contradictory things as if you can’t decide what do you want but you don’t know _why_ you say them. Perhaps it’s the foreign feeling that your entire crotch is being engaged in something this arousing. You mentally coach yourself into relaxing, which seems to help just in time; Spider’s arms pull at you, burying his tongue deeper into you, his fingers clutching at your thighs. The inside of you helmet is wet with your own breath. Fuck you could go on like this for hours, and you feel like you're pretty close to exploding because honestly, it's been a while since you've been touched _there_ , right **THERE** , and--!

When his tongue leaves you, the first general feeling is disappointment. It’s quick and sudden, his hands momentarily leaving you... But then he grabs your thighs with all fours, and tongue and mouth get in direct, shameless, _hungry_ contact with your genitals and **FUCK** . Your hands fly to grab his own, not sure whether you want to push them away or tell them to grab firmer but you hold onto his wrists for dear life as pleasure _ripples_ through your body again... and again, and _again_ because this bastard just doesn't know when enough is enough and you run out of words, nothing but your desperately horny, loud cries echoing throughout the room. Your mind might as well be on a different plane of existence right now and if there was ever any truth to the statement ‘seeing stars’, you can now tell why. 

When you recover from what is _you-stopped-counting_ -th orgasm, you realize Spider is standing up, lazily wiping at his face, an expression on it that’s all at once calm and hungry, quiet and impatient. He pulls you closer to him still, and you realize he had placed your legs on the upper part of the secondary pair of his arms. The implication is terrifyingly hot, and you realize that this whole thing that briefly transported you to another dimension, might have been him preparing you for the next best thing. You think how nice that is of him. 

Hot as _fuck_. But also, kind of sweet. 

He leans in, placing his hands just above your shoulders, sinking into the linen. At this point, you feel his hardened member next to your own privates and you shiver at the touch. 

_This is happening_ , you remind yourself, exhilarated, making sure you're not dreaming.

“Your taste is... foreign, to me.” He suddenly says, out of breath. You chuckle, caught off guard. 

“Yeah? Well fuck you, too.” 

He laughs harder and more sincerely than you expected. “Don’t be _agitated_ , my Guardian. You’ll get _everything_ you want.” 

“Short reckonings, long friends, all that.” You mumble when he starts to grind himself against you. He lets out a low growl of his own. You look down at his length, pressing against you. You wonder if you’ll be able to enjoy it the way you imagine. It is sure to hurt a certain degree, that you don’t mind – in fact, it is kind of a teeming feeling when it happens, like a pleasant fire in your abdomen. 

What you would mind, is if the whole thing becomes... _unbearable_. 

But you’re getting ahead of yourself. Forget it.

You focus on the impressive view of his member. The tip of him is covered in a shimmering substance, like thick, gelatinous water. Your mind easily distracts itself from the possibility of a bad experience when you reach for it. 

You smear the substance over his tip and the rest of him. It is excessively slick, which you’re sure your body will appreciate when the time comes. The Spider jerks almost violently into your hand. It comes to your mind that he must not be used to such a soft touch on such a delicate part of his body. More of the substance leaks from him, a drop of it landing on your belly. You gasp at how hot it is. 

You bite your lip because the feeling of his parts against your is so close to making you dip into that pool of pleasure. But then Spider slowly retreats and aligns himself with you, his full body gets in contact with yours. He cocks his head, teeth gleaming, eyes narrowing. And he quietly rasps: 

“Get ready, my Guardian.” 

**FUCK THIS IS HAPPENING.**

He doesn’t give you much time to think or say anything as he eases into you, surprisingly smoothly. 

You revel, you cry out, your body bends as your mind melts, and your insides are _blossoming_ . What ache there is from the size of him, is an excessively big turn on, and is further completely overshadowed by how _good_ it feels. The Spider himself lets out something akin to a... 'soft' roar, his tongue clicks and he hisses, erratic breaths are expelled straight into your helmet and neck. His head slowly sinks into your shoulder and there he breathes in the scent of your skin. You tremble under the warmth and mass of his stout body, adjusting to the blazing fire in you. You can’t tell _why_ does it feel that way, because you know you haven’t felt this kind of pleasure before. You remember that peppery aroma you tasted on him, and think that must be what makes your insides tingle. 

His arms readjust. Two hands are on your hips, holding you in place. 

_Fuck yeah._

The other two, however, do something you do not expect them to. 

Spider’s hands take your own; your uneven fingers clumsily intertwined as he presses them down into the mattress by your shoulders. 

… It is so intimate. _Too_ intimate. It is so **unbelievably** intimate you find yourself feeling nearly nervous. Of all the things he’s done or will do to you, you think this one to be most... most...? 

He doesn’t give you the time to think. He moves against you and you gasp, your body begging you to stop thinking. The thought perishes like a leaf in the wind. 

From the place where your legs are hooked behind his arms, you pull yourself deeper onto him. _Fuck_ . He pulls on your hips, leaving red marks on them. _Fuck_ . His belly is dragging against your body, providing friction exactlt where you need it. _Fuck_ . He buries himself so deep inside you, and you forget where you are, and ot aches but you don’t give a damn because this kind of ache feels so good and **_FUCK_ **. 

“ _Don’t stop._ ” You whisper, not because he shows any signs of stopping or changing anything but exactly this, this _pace_ , this _depth_ , his mouth on your neck and his hands in yours, it’s all you ever wanted and if it ends any time soon, you feel like you might go insane. You don’t have any reason to worry, it would seem. The Spider is relentless as the thrusts into you with rhythmic momentum, grunting into your skin, hisses and clicks of the foreign language mixed with your own sounds of pleasure.

You briefly wonder if this can possibly get any better... and then you hear him _speak_.

“Is this... _Pedantic_ enough, Guardian?” 

Amidst all the sounds you two are shamelessly producing, he actually has the mind and the gall for banter! The memory of your past conversation is still clear in your mind, however, and a worn out laughter escapes you. It doesn'y help that you find his voice very stimulating.

“Just e-enough...” you pant, turning his head ever so slightly, “to seem – ah! - polite.” 

“Not enough, then.” He decides, much to your surprise, and gets up from your shoulder, looking down at you. The secondary pair of hands leave your hips, and though you’re momentarily displeased by it, you find it _very_ effective when you feel them caress at your sides, touch your ribs, go over your nipples, gently pinch, press their claws into your tender skin, and all of this somehow _doesn’t_ distract him from continually thrusting into you. His eyes follow the motions of his own hands as they test your skin, search for the spots that make you moan or that tickle, press harder on a spot that seems particularly sensitive and _ah_ \--! 

At this point, it’s become pretty hard not only to determine how many orgasms you had, but also when exactly did they occur. 

“Your whole body _tightens_ , Guardian,” the Spider starts as he _fucks_ you, and you hope he continues to talk, because you’re pretty sure that candy-wrapped rasp of his could make you come by itself, “whenever you reach your peak.” 

“You don’t s-say!” You breathe out, still desperately pushing yourself on him. He gives way selflessly, snarls as he watches your body trying to get more of him, one more thrust, one more orgasm, one second longer, hands caressing your nipples and tightening against your ribcage. 

“Oh yes,” he hisses, “I must admit... I had not expected it to have... such an effect on me.” 

“T-tell me _more_ .” You audibly beg. Damn it all , you _begged_. You won’t let that happen again. 

The Spider doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he indulges you. 

“... Do you want me to tell you what you did to me, Guardian?” His thrusts slow down just a tiny bit, almost as if he wants you to listen. You try to pay attention amidst the wonderful mess in your lower abdomen. "You want me to let you know how many times have I imagined you here, on this spot? In this _exact_ position?” 

_More._

“Fuck, Spider-” 

“How many different plans I have for you? What are the _many_ ways I'll make you _writhe_?” 

_MORE_. 

“Just give – ngh! G-give me the numbers, w-won’t you?” You pant out. Spider growls into your face, your stupid helmet an inch from his gorgeous eyes. 

“I’ll put that clever mouth of yours to a _very_ good use the first chance I get.” 

“More...” You plead. His voice drops, nearly a whisper. 

“You will give me _everything_ , Guardian. Everything, so I can repay my debt... with _this_. Again. Again... and again-” a thrust with each word, driving you insane.

“ **More** , Spider, p-please, don’t--” 

“I’ll... give you everything,” you shut your eyes firmly, barely hear him over the electricity of your orgasms, barely catch the almost gentle tone of his voice, “I’ll give you everything and more... and I’ll expect you to take it the way you do _now_.” 

_More!_ You don’t say that out loud but you don’t have to. 

“Because the way you’re reacting _now_... oh, my Guardian. I knew there was a reason... you were my _favorite_.” 

It is only a few thrusts away before his entire length pulls out of you. The shock of it leaves you fighting for your breath, and you feel the hot substance on your stomach and chest, you watch his face as he finishes over your body and you revel in knowing it is capable of making him look like _that_. 

It is only now that he starts catching giant breaths of air. You don’t know how he managed before. Maybe he didn’t even realize he wasn’t breathing a while. The thought makes you smirk. 

You shiver as you prop yourself up on your elbows. You realize you’re entirely wet, what from him and yourself, what from your accumulated sweat. Even the bed cover is damp. 

“Uhm.” You start but can’t find the words. Hell, you can't properly speak right now. “That was...” Fuck. What even is there to say to describe what a mind-blowingly pleasurable experience this was... 

Spider leans in, his mouth pressing against the spot of the helmet where your forehead would be. 

“It was... _unexpected_ .” He _mumbles_ into it. 

… Yes, you’re already well flushed because of this whole ordeal. It doesn’t stop you from blushing at this... sentiment. 

“To say the least.” You comment with a smile. 

He chuckles as he grabs his discarded shawl from the floor, and cleans you up as much as he can with it. You shiver and let out a soft gasp as his hand goes in between your legs. He looks very pleased at that but, uncharacteristically, says nothing. You really don’t like the silence, though. 

“Don’t get smug.” You warn him. He barks out a short laughter. 

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” 

You blush heavily at this point, and to battle it, start to get smart with him. 

“I’ve been too generous with praise, then.” 

“Oh? Perhaps then, it is time I prove myself once more. This time, you can remain silent in your... assessment.” His handslithers over your leg. You gasp, and almost slap his hand away so as to stop yourself from telling him it’s _on_. Your body begs you for recovery, however. Though no damage has been done, to claim all of this hasn’t worn you out would be a lie. The second time might not be as comfortable. 

“I’d rather stop here. I think you did well in, uh... giving me _everything_.” You reach up, taking your helmet briefly off again. You look at him for a moment, allowing him to see the results. Your sparkling eyes and messy hair, flushed skin and a wide grin. And then... “Thank you.” You say as you plant another kiss, this time to the little of skin just below his mandibles. 

Again, he ‘purrs’ at it. You don’t know what else to call it. 

“Always a pleasure, my Guardian.” 

... You feel like those words don’t have the same meaning anymore. 

You both get dresses and he puts on his breathing apparatus. Before you go out, he is again the Spider, fearsome ruler of the Tangled Shore.

When you step outside of his private chambers and into the hideout, he makes a small show of saying ‘pleasure doing business with you’ before some of his men.

You respectfully nod at him. 

You both part ways as formally as you can, your body still tingling and shivering.

. 

. 

. 

Fuck, that was the best. 

You spend the rest of your evening marveling at your day, not believing what you experienced. You can only hope he’ll see it possible to do something like that again. You haven’t really talked details about it but from what you know, you could both, uh... use a respite like this, every once in a while. 

Even so... 

Even though this was clearly a sex thing, even though it is _just_ that... even though you never planned on doing nor remembering these things, you can’t forget the kiss you gave him. You can’t forget the way you removed each other's armor as if you had all the time in the world... 

... and hard as you might, you can’t forget his hands in yours, almost as desperate for such a gentle contact as you were. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, a serious chapter! Hope you're ready!

When you wake up the morning after, you expect many things, any many things you expected for a reason. You expect the comfortable ache of your body, provided by the Spider’s... thorough treatment. You expect the odd scent in the room, because when you got back to your lodgings last night, and finally took off your helmet, you had the opportunity to properly feel the peppery, sharp scent that Spider left lingering all over your body. You didn’t quite want to get rid of it yet, and went to sleep without a shower you usually indulge in. You expect your Ghost to ask questions, and ask questions he did, and last night you told him the same thing you always do:  _ It’s nothing. _

What you don’t expect, is to see the face of Cayde-6, who is lying right next to you.

What you expect even less, is for him to be very dead, and very mutilated.

_ Good morning!  _ The E xo corpse cheerfully greets, and you scream into his face. Your Ghost pops up and wakes you from your nightmare, and when you wake up, you notice your pillow and sheets thrown all around. You have pushed a small potted plant off a nearby surface, and it traced earth all over the floor. You swear to yourself under your breath as you get it all cleaned up.

“Guardian?”

Your Ghost joins you a few minutes later on the window, where you’re  watching a very early sunrise, and trying to calm down with a cigarette.

You don’t smoke. You  _ hate  _ the foul things. But apparently, they help in times of stress. You notice it sometimes works, sometimes doesn’t.

“Ghost.” You acknowledge him, nodding. You feel like there is no point in waiting for him to ask, so you proceed: “’Had Cayde’s dead body in the bed with me. He told me ‘good morning’. It was kinda nice.” You pause. “Aside from the whole... you know. ‘Being dead’ thing.”

“Oh... Oh, Guardian.” Your Ghosts’ voice, artificial as it is, drips with more concern than you knew anyone could manage. It makes you want to cry.

“It’s fine.” You cut him off confidently before he can say anything else. “I just miss him.”

“None of us are alone  in that sentiment. Why don’t you talk about it to someone?”

“What is there to talk about? Cayde is dead.” You draw a smoke and nearly choke on it. “It  _ sucks _ .”

Your Ghost, usually full of motivational ways to get you going, must detect your mood because it doesn’t say anything else. You take your fourth smoke of the cigarette, and extinguish it in a dirty little saucer, filled to the brim with half-smoked stubs. 

~*~*~*~*~

You get back to your regular duties with little ease to speak of. You would’ve thought Cayde’s leaking face would haunt you for only a little while but you feel as if someone has pasted that image right before your eyes and forced you to mull over it. The Exo hunter occasionally appears but you always firmly ignore him, as you have decided to do until further notice. Once, you walked right through him. He wasn’t too happy about it but it did give you a reason to chuckle bitterly.

Several days pass in relative calm – if you can call it that – as you patrol the edges of the Last City, carrying out whatever duties the Vanguard provides. Though you don’t have an issue performing your duties, this whole thing with Cayde has got you restless, and you’re wondering if Spider is much busy these days. You could use another breather.

One morning, a simple message flashes displayed on your private console.

_ Guardian. Week from now. Evening. _

Though your heart races at the thought, something about this makes you think Spider is very smug to think so little of your time. Was this how it was going to be, huh? ‘Spider’s guardian’, at his beck and call?  Looks like you’ll have to set up some rules of your own. One way or the other.

But for now, you feel like the next week can’t come soon enough, and yet you have to get through the rest of this one. You groan.

Though Spider has contacted you, and you look forward to seeing him again, your brain decides that is a good reason to make plenty of room for you to think about Cayde again. You wonder why your mind  works in such a ridiculous way. Can’t it see Cayde is not the person nor the topic you want to think about? Nothing makes sense to you today.

_ Nothing has been making sense to you for a while. _

“Yeah well, you know what, Cayde? You’re not making it any easier for me.”

_ It’s not my fault you don’t  _ _ wanna _ _ talk! _

“Here we go again with the talking. Maybe if you talked  _ less _ , I’d be inclined to.”

_ How does that make any sense? _

You spent several way too long minutes arguing with imaginary Cayde in the middle of the Tower, when you realize Guardians are staring. You have to remind yourself Cayde is not here. He is not here. He is  ** not  ** here.

He is right there, patting your back.

_ There, there. You’ll get through this, kid. _

You storm off with your own hallucination following, ignoring it as well as you can. The problem being, that doesn’t seem to be working anymore. He just does  _ not  _ go away.

On the very next day, you visit the physician again, lie through your teeth about how the hallucination is persistent but not getting any worse while Cayde is right there by your shoulder, urging you to tell the truth, and get prescribed with something that’s supposed to ‘calm you down’. You have no idea what that means. Annoying Cayde aside, you’re perfectly calm and collected. You tell as much to the physician. She gives you another doubtful stare and waits for you to take a single dosage, for starters. You do so with a shrug.

When you’re out on the street, your Ghost immediately starts talking.

“Guardian, I don’t think you were  telling the entire truth of this issue.”

“That’s because it doesn’t matter. This thing will sort itself out. As they always do.”

“What do you mean? What ‘thing’? How do you expect anything to sort out all by itself if no one knows about it?”

You sigh, hating that you have to spell it out when it’s simple, really. How can nobody see that?

“ _ Grief _ , Ghost. This is me, grieving.”

“... I don’t think you’re doing it right. In fact, I don’t think that’s it, at all.”

You laugh, because you think he’s joking. Or maybe you’re telling _yourself_ that.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

“These visits to a physician are _ridiculous_ , anyway. I'm perfectly equipped to take care of you! If you’d only  _ talk  _ to me, if you’d  _ finally  _ let me, I could give you a thorough scan to-”

“I already told you,  _ no _ .” He’s lost you at  _ ‘talk’ _ . You pause, knowing it sounded harsh. “Sorry. It’s just not necessary. I’m alright.”

Your Ghost says nothing.

~*~*~*~*~

The week slowly rolls by and, honestly?

You’re feeling like a  ** star ** .

Though you have no idea what ‘calming down’ means in terms of the medication you started taking, being cool as a cucumber already,   
the hallucination of Cayde appears less than before. 

He’s significantly quieter, too.   
You can move on with your life as you should, free of burden the memory of him brings,   
and able to concentrate on nicer things in life.

Like two days from now, 8PM.

You will finally have the company you nee— that is, you want. You don’t  _ need  _ anything.

Though you kind of miss Cayde’s illusionary face, you can’t help but think,

_ Man does it feel fine to not think about him _ . _ At all. Ever. _

Hell, you don’t even dream anymore.

Life is smooth sailing.

“Guardian?”

You don’t even think about your Ghost anymore. Why would you?

You’re fine as is.

“Guardian, please. Talk to me.”

… You took one  dosage too many didn’t you?”

“Everything is fine. You just need to wear it out.” You hear him sigh. “Lie down.”

... Oh you  _ did _ .

Better listen to your Ghost

and sleep that off.

You sink

into

sleep.

.

.

.

When you wake, you have no idea what time it is. The medication has worn off but left you feeling kind of groggy. What straightens you out instantly is the image of Cayde, sitting on your bed. It’s been a while since you’ve seen his hallucinatory ass so clearly. It’s been _never_ since you were able to see creaks in the mattress where he sits, or his shadow, or, or how clearly light reflects off him.

“Cay-- Cayde?” You hoarsely whisper, something heavy in our stomach.

“Guadian!” Your Ghost inches closer. In his voice you can hear the closest a being like him can ever come to crying. 

“Hey there, kid! Now  ** that  ** was a doozy!” Cayde chirps. He sounds not like an echo, or like a fake thing he’s been. He sounds like he’s  _ here _ .

You sit up, stand up, pace around the room, all in matter of seconds. Ghost is staring at you. Cayde is just sort of hanging around. 

Then you bump into him.

...No, you  _ don’t  _ because Cayde isn’t here. Cayde is  _ dead  _ and gone. You firmly go through him.

Only you don’t, and you collide, and you bounce off his armored chest.

_ Fuck. _

“Guardian, please! What is it?”

“He is here.” You punch the shoulder of the nothingness in front of you. The space that you know is empty but that your mind stubbornly fills in with a dead man. “He is right  _ here _ .”

“Oh.” Your Ghost sounds sadder than ever. “Do you want to-”

“No.” You cut him off bitterly. “Just... give me a moment. I’ll make him go away.”

“I-”

“ ** Ghost ** .” You emphasize.

It is not often that you make your Ghost silent. It is never that he decides to go away without any word of acknowledgement.

“Well, that was rude.” Cayde interjects. You spin on your heel, and launch a punch straight into his stomach. He doubles over, letting out an ‘oof’. “... Still don’t wanna talk about it, huh?” 

“What do you want from me?" You ask a bit too quietly. It comes to your mind it might be your equivalent of screaming. 

“Don’t you think I should be the one asking those questions?” Cayde replies as he straightens himself. “What is it that you want from  _ me _ , Guardian?"

The question echoes too close to the very similar one asked by a different person, for different reasons. You cover your face.

“I’m  _ grieving _ .” You insist that it’s not shame, and sound like you’re five years old for some reason.

_ “ _ Better late than never, I suppose. I mean, I  _ have  _ been dead for months, now.”

You feel like you could kill him yourself right now and you don’t know why is it that you’re so angry. He is the last person in the System you’d want to hurt.  _ Why  _ are you so angry? Why are you so irredeemably, unapologetically, unbelievably angry?

“Look, if you want to  _ taaalk _ __ about it~” He emphasizes and you’re honestly too tired to argue. You give up.

“You know what,  ** FINE ** . We’ll goddamn talk about it.”

“Good! Then my work here is done!” He turns as if to leave. If it could, your jaw would have probably hit the floor right now.

“I- Cayde! I  _ just  _ said I’d talk to you!”

He turns around, and catches you off guard with how sad he seems. “...  Oh come on, Guardian.” Cayde approaches you, and hugs you. Perhaps if you hug back firm enough, he’ll come back to the land of living. He backs up, and grins at you.

“I never said it was  _ me  _ you were supposed to talk to.”

…  _ Oh, that son of a bitch. _

“I can tell your brain needs a vacation. So.” He pats your shoulders. “Go on then, and get better soon. And don’t worry. You’ll see me again. Need to say goodbye, all that.”

Cayde salutes you. You wave weakly at him, and blink. He is gone.

You let out a shudder of a breath.

“... Ghost?”

Shame overflows you as he appears. Not because of everything you’re about to admit and tell him.  It is because your friend has been here all along, wanting to help you. You never considered him. You never even tried to ask to help him back.

“I’m-- Uh...” You are too embarrassed. Not only that. For once, you give yourself a minute to actually grieve. To feel ashamed. To feel more than general annoyance about the fact Cayde is irredeemably dead, that his death brought the awkwardness that is Spider into your life, that it means more to you than you want it to, and that you feel guilty as  _ fuck  _ about it.

Damn, you don’t usually cry.

“You’re alright, Guardian.” Your Ghost assures you as you wipe your face.

“I am.” You nod. “I am now... And I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain. I didn't-”

“You wouldn’t have been unless you were  _ in  _ pain. It’s alright.”

You swear, he is too good to be true. Ghost hovers before you, ready to help.

“Talk to me.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you to the unusual number of people who have actually taken the time to read this story. You made every one of my days since I published it.
> 
> <3

You had several ideas on how your Ghost would take the entire truth about what you’ve been through over the course of the last few weeks. What you didn’t expect, was for him to understand you _this_ much. Then again, perhaps this little being that came from the Traveller itself in search of your dead body knows and understands some parts of you better than you yourself can. He is, if anything, a _little_ taken by surprise. Once he hears the entire story, however, he is merely glad you told it all to him, and asks if he can keep scanning you for any significant changes in your brain signature, which is such an odd request.

Turn out, Traveller and his little Lights _really_ do not give a damn about whom you want to bed. 

Your Ghost does care however, about your subtle, if perhaps unnoticed obsession over Cayde’s death. 

“I can understand the guilt and the shame that stem from the bridge that connects Cayde and the objects of such intimate desires but perhaps some further research is in order,” your Ghost speaks of these things as idly as if it is conducting telemetry analysis, and not discussing your deepest emotional scars and needs. You’re actually pretty grateful about this unusual form of subtlety. “... Maybe there is something we can do to alleviate your pain to the point where you can go through the grieving process without all these extra psychological burdens.” 

To be perfectly honest, you think the sole fact you finally poured your thoughts and soul out to Ghost might have taken care of most of the problem. The Ghost, however, disagrees. 

“It might have made the whole thing a lot easier to bear but some damage _has_ been done already. Though hallucinations have been benign so far, I fear what might happen in the future if we don’t make our move now.” 

That _is_ a good point. You let your Ghost scan you all he wants in various environments as you work, or eat, or sleep. It’s both his pleasure and his job. At the end of the day, you _do_ appreciate him doing so, and decide to voice it more often.

You firmly decline, however, when he asks if he can do the same when you pay Spider a visit. The mere thought of your poor Ghost witnessing any and every _unspeakable_ thing you do is-- 

“ **That was not what I meant!** ” Ghost _finally_ finds it in himself to sounds embarrassed, and you chuckle, knowing _very_ well that was not what he meant. “I would leave as soon as I got the data. You’d have all the privacy you need.” 

You tell him to make sure he does it subtly – while you consider Spider all kinds of charismatic, you know what he’s capable of; you’re not sure his charms will extend towards a Ghost he might like to put on his shelf. 

When you land on the Shore, you notice the atmosphere is not as volatile as usual. You take of your helmet. A bit shallow but manageable. Still. You put your helmet back on for now. Knowing yourself, you’re gonna wish to stay hidden for a little longer. 

You forgot what this felt like. Though you’ve been here once before, the novelty of what you’re about to do hasn’t worn of at all. You’re almost as nervous as if you were doing this for the first time. Slowly, you walk in. 

Just as before, his Guards show you in. Just as before, you sneak through the dark hallway and a dank room, shutting doors behind you. 

Unlike before, you find Spider right there in his living room. Napping. You have to look twice to believe it. 

_No way!_

You find it so unbelievably lucky that you found him in a position such as this. You find it weird that he allowed himself to be found in such a vulnerable position in the first place but, everyone the great Spider makes mistakes, you suppose. Plus, it IS his private space. A dozen scenarios go through your head, funny, saucy and even rude ones. But before you carry any of them out, you call your Ghost forth, to do his duty. 

After scanning you (and you hate it, because you’re aware of what Spider’s presence does to you), Ghost curiously checks out the collections, and the uncharacteristic neatness of it. What with how it looks from the outside, he didn’t expect it, just as you didn’t. 

He takes in the shelf with the dead Ghosts with a morbid amount of attention but he doesn’t profess any amount of discomfort about it. You’re sure it’s just so you wouldn’t feel weird about it. 

“He is very... pedantic.” Ghost whispers. 

You smile to yourself and say nothing to that, because you wouldn’t be able to without laughing. 

“That’ll be all. I’ll leave you to it.” He pauses, then chirps: “Have fun!” 

You flush as he disappears. He got a bit cheeky, didn’t he? 

You look over to the Spider. You briefly wonder if he’s playing pretend but you can't see him doing such a silly thing. Despite many amusing things you can do to him while he sleeps, you’re not sure how to proceed about this, so for now you get comfortable. You notice that, though he is this time dressed far more casually, he’s still got his breathing apparatus on. You check out the readings of the air. Apparently, he didn’t turn on purifiers today. _Cunning bastard_ , you think to yourself, grinning as you take your helmet and cape off. You’re going to make sure he gets _exactly_ what he wants once he’s awake. 

… In fact, you might as well start slowly without him. You both came here for the same thing, so you’re sure he won’t mind waking up to the sight of you, very eager to begin. 

… You can’t claim you ever did anything like this though. It makes you nervous. 

You proceed to get rid of any equipment you got on you, leaving on a... modest assortment of casual clothing. Then you inch closer. 

It dawns on you that you have the unique opportunity to observe him. You sit on the low table in front of him, and then... you just watch him. His casual wear is something akin to a very fancy, deep blue robe, custom made it would seem, and it reaches all the way to the floor. His arms are sprawled around him, one of them resting in his lap. He lets out a gentle noise, like a hum. Occasionally, the lower right arm twitches, and you wonder if it’s a dream or something different, like an old injury, or a nervous tick. 

Though you can’t see much of his face, you not how calm of an expression he has while he is asleep. You wonder how many ever saw Spider in such serenity. 

The more you look, however, the dirtier your mind gets, and your eyes begin to longer on his robe. It’s fun to play with the risk of him catching you in the act. Your heart races as you stand up and move the clothing aside, and stand in between his knees. His body is still foreign to you, and you're eager to explore. 

Gingerly, you reach for the space of skin over his collarbone, and trace your fingers over the dip. You now get the chance to experience some things you neglected before; you remember that his skin was firm but you forgot the texture of it. No hair, yet it feels like there is... _something_ covering it, something you can’t identify, that makes it rougher than it appears. You lean in closer to his neck, one hand on the back of the sofa, to the space you’re touching and before you can control yourself, you lean in to kiss it. 

The roughness feels rewarding against the thin skin on your lips, and your drag your mouth over his neck just to feel it better. You plant another just below the apparatus he wears, on a place where his ear might be if he were a human. Your other hand finds balance on his plated chest, your lips drag all over his collarbone and _oh by the Light when did you straddle him._

You suddenly desperately want him to be awake but it is such a fascinating experience to have Spider, _the_ Spider to yourself like this, and you lean in to kiss his neck again, your lips lowering over his collarbone, hands running down his arms until you find his fingers and though you don’t plan on it, though you planned on going far more South than this, you can't help but hold his hands firmly in yours-- 

The hands clench, and Spider wraps his arms around you, with it trapping your arms on your back. You cry out, gasp when you look up, and see his eyes, wide open... so very surprised. You really _did_ wake him up. For a moment there, you thought he really _might_ have been pretending but he looks, you realize, as if something had shaken him. 

He is breathing heavily, almost as in in panic. Feeling kind of bad about the whole thing, you shrug apologetically. Maybe his kind didn’t like surprises like this? Was this one of the worse ideas you had?

“I got impatient, Spider. The deal was eight o’clock.” You try flirtatiously. When he doesn’t reply, you get a bit concerned. 

“Guardian...” His voice is almost a whisper but he trails off. It is rare that Spider has no words but you can’t tell what is it that has left him speechless. He looks behind you, where you discarded all your stuff messily. You try to follow his gaze, wanting to know what bothers him... but feel a third hand, hooking your chin, and bringing your eyes to his. It is so hard to look away, and why would you? Eyes study you, and you feel like you’re on a precipice of something different, something _new_ happening, and it terrifies you as well as--

“Well!” The old tone is there, audible amusement again in his voice. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again... You're full of surprises.” 

You are flooded with both relief and disappointment. You can’t tell why the latter. There is laughter in his chest, and he leans in. His masked face gently touches your forehead. It is a simple sentiment but it makes your heart _drum_ against your chest. 

“My, my, waking up with my favorite Guardian in my lap...” he slowly releases the hold on your hands, instead tracing your skin, “what have I done to deserve such a kindness?” 

You want to say so many things to that question but none of them feel like they would be right. You go down the easier route, and get to the point. 

“I think the better question would be ‘what _will_ you do’?” You teasingly say, and slowly drag your hands across his groins, where you can reach his skin. He appreciates it very much, you remember, when you firmly use your nails on his skin. “But until then, I have some... unresolved plans for you.” 

He lets out a grunt. “Don’t let me stop you.” 

_Fuck you want to kiss him so badly._

But there are plenty other places for you to use your mouth on. You lean into his neck, and try your best to trace an acceptable place with your lips... until you softly dig in with your teeth. 

He makes a guttural sound that vibrates in your chest, and his hands tighten on your legs. 

On the back of your neck, you feel another hand pushing. _Oh_? 

You lick you lips... then bite down unapologetically hard. 

His claws clench on your bare legs, and you feel him jolt. _There it is_ , you think to yourself happily when Spider makes that by now familiar growl that you love so much, your hands busying themselves with exploring those little nooks and crannies of Spider's skin that he loves touched. For a moment you separate from him, for he becomes very eager to take off your shirt. When his clawed hands touch your back, you quiver and melt in his arms, your teeth aggressive, lips thirsty. 

It doesn’t take long before your hand reaches down and finds what it looked for. 

“Now then...” You gently get up, and he does not look pleased... until you get down to your knees. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” You inform him with a teasing grin. 

You imagine Spider wasn’t hoping to see you so willingly on your knees before him. You imagine it gives him some sort of boost, if it’s judging by stiffened reaction, surprised eyes, sounds he tries not to emit. 

You reach to touch him again. He is looking at you very expectantly. You can see the widened blue eyes moving from your own, to your mouth, to his own member in your hands, hardening by the second, and back. One of his legs jerks ever so slightly. Oh, he is _so_ impatient. He does an impressive show of pretending he is not, you got to give him that. 

So, you’re going to wait for as _long_ as you possibly can. 

Having learned by now that his skin is noticeably thicker than yours, you unscrupulously cover the tough skin of his length harshly with your nails, all the way from under the base, across his shaft and in-between the shell plates... up right until the very tip, where you always stop, and where his breath always quickens for a moment, and where he always looks at you angrily. You opt for watching him grow under your hands for a little longer, to give yourself a show, and give him something to look forward to. 

His leg begins to bounce profusely, and you chuckle at him from beneath, your eyes not leaving his. 

“ _Guardian_.” His voice is a low rumble, a covered-up threat. You _love_ it. 

“Patience isn’t your virtue, is it?” 

You wait for him to start talking before you out your lips around him. You catch him mid-sentence. 

“Generosity certainly isn’t y-ooh!” You don’t get to hear Spider often, not like this. Not those sincere, pleasurable sounds, the kind of sounds he managed to draw out of you the last time.

“Didn’t catch that, sorry.” 

“You-” Again, you stop him in his tracks. Two of his hands clutch at the sofa, the other two in your hair, holding on as gently as they physically can in such position where he clearly has to hold back. 

You remember his own way to tease you was to give you all he could, as suddenly as possible. Perhaps a sudden change of tactics would be... something he’d enjoy, as well. 

You dip your head down suddenly and strongly, and Spider actually _moans_. It’s music to your ears. His legs begin to shake. 

“G-Guardian-” His hands are clutching in your hair, pulling at it but you don’t give a damn. Your hands ceaselessly graze his skin, and when you start twirling your tongue around him, he all but loses it. You go deeper, and you can feel him grazing the back of your throat, at which point he just stops pretending he can take this quietly. The Spider shivers under your touch, gasps for air, and lets out a chain of incoherent clicks, his hands not exactly pushing at your head but clearly wanting to, and so you go an extra mile, and take him deeper because fuck it, you’re used to that at this point and _you are so incredibly turned on_ by how desperate he is for a release, so much so that you’re not sure how long you can go on without completely ruining his lush carpet with you own- 

He tries to tell you but you find yourself either not listening or not caring – you can’t remember which was it later – and he comes into your mouth with a shuddering gasp for breath, hands twitching in your hair. The taste is strong and tangy, spicy and not exactly the best but it’s not like you care. When your mouth finally leaves him, it does so slowly, causing one final shudder from him. You look for your shirt because in its pocket, there is a tissue you end up wiping your mouth with. 

Once you’re done, you look up at him; your patience is very thin but you imagine you’ll have to give him a little while to get himself together. But the moment you stand up, he takes you by the arm. 

“My turn, Guardian.” He teases you, then surprises you by dragging you into his lap, your back to his chest. You are momentarily confused, though you can’t deny feeling comfy as his arms encircle you, touching at your toned arms, at your chest, your belly... 

It is a strange feeling, knowing he is there, waiting for him to give you fireworks again but not being able to see him. You realize it makes your heart race. 

His hands explore, drawing you nearer, your back now straight against him. His hands slowly, skillfully trap you there, playing with the more sensitive of your spots he has already remembered, the clever _bastard_ , and giving you anything but exactly what you’ve been wanting from the start. You can feel yourself dripping with your own fluids, and pant when you feel his hand on your thigh, so close to _finally_ touching you. 

He doesn’t however, and with it, your frustration grows. It must be audible, because Spider whispers in your ear: 

“Patience isn’t your virtue either, is it?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” You manage a laugh, and feel him laughing with you. 

“Perhaps later,” you shiver at those words, “but for now, I want you to indulge me.” 

“... M-Meaning?” 

“... Tell me what to do to you.” 

_What?_

_“_ You should know _very well_ -” You start, chuckling breathlessly but he gently interrupts you. 

_“_ Oh, no no .” He speaks slowly, drawing circles just below your genitalia and driving you fucking _insane_ with it. “Tell me _exactly_ what you want me to do to you. I want to know my Guardian’s every,” his fingers climb up, “deepest and plainest,” climb higher, “most intricate and simplest”, his feathery touch lands on the space between your legs, and you curse his name under your breath, “ _need_.” 

You swear he is going to kill you with this. 

He wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t want to hear, though. 

… By the Light, this is embarrassing.

 _You don’t care,_ you tell yourself, _you don’t care. Just say it to him._

“Use, umm-” You twitch in his arms. Your cheeks burn. “Put your hand, uh...” You indirectly coach him where to put them, and he doesn’t seem to mind that that you are not _too_ blunt about it. “B-but while you do that-” 

“This, Guardian?” He purrs into your ear as he moves his hand directly onto you, knowing very _fucking_ well that’s what you enjoy. You cry out your next words: 

“Y-yeah, while you do _that_ —! You can also--” 

A hand joins the first and good fucking _god_ \-- 

“Continue, Guardian.” 

'Fuck if you can, you can hardly breathe, let alone speak! 

“Touch me-- right there--” 

Honestly, you are not sure if you’re in any state of mind that allows you to give coherent instructions but it seems to be good enough for Spider because it works like a charm. Though you were initially reluctant about telling him so blatantly what to do, it turns out there is something arousing about having Spider ‘take care’ of you this way. He gently coaxes you into telling him what is it that you want, and you end up telling him _everything_ ; and the more you talk, the closer you can feel your release coming, and you don’t ask but _tell_ him to press at that spot on your side below your ribs, tell him to caress that little sliver of skin right against the line of your hair, to touch that small space between your lower abdomen and your belly that tickles as _fuck,_ but feels so good when he massages it gently _—_ and eventually, slowly, it propels you into depths of pleasure you’ve gotten to know the last time, pleasure that is now less like a ripple and more like sinking into a pool, never-ending and constant, and you bend in his arms as he keeps finding more and more ways for you to hold on to your release for as long as you can. 

“Spider!” You cry out, overwhelmed, body tingling, hands firmly stuck on his as he mercilessly continues to provide, and you can hear his labored breathing in your ear, and you feel his member touching against you and _**finally, we're doing this** _ . When he enters you, it is sudden, and it feels like a flame. The release you held onto for so long spikes and you moan out his name again, involuntarily thrust against him, his hands wrapping around your hips, helping your body gain the momentum and force it needs and you lose yourself in everything that Spider is, his musky scent filling the room, his needy grunts hit in your ear, his voice finally breaking, moaning, gasping for you as he touches you... and the Spider calls your name, your _name_ that he had never spoken before and then you see colours and colours, dancing before your eyes. 

… You have to try your hardest not to think about it once you're done. You can’t help it though. You keep trying to put your left boot on your right leg. 

You both get cleaned up and dressed unusually quickly, bantering. You can’t remember for the life of you what is it you were saying but you remember throwing some dumb sex joke and laughing at his reply, and _why the hell did he say your name and by god how good that felt what is wrong with you._

You are about to walk out- 

“Guardian. If I may borrow a moment of your time.” 

“Still not enough?” You finally get your thoughts together enough to calmly joke – now that you’re dressed and your face is covered, it is vastly easier. 

He chuckles but it’s... kind of hollow. You actually look at him. He observes you quietly. 

“... Spider?” 

“Ah.” You just caught him lost in thought. Today is full of little surprises like these. “... Perhaps next time.” 

“... Right.” 

… That was weird. 

...Not as weird as him calling your name though. 

_Holy shit_ , he didn’t call you ‘Guardian’ for once in his life! 

… Why are you so happy about it? There is literally no reason for you to get this excited about such an oddity. It is odd, sure. But that’s it. 

You’re just surprised. 

That must be it. 

That’s it. 

Right. 

… 

That night you can’t fall asleep, and when you think of your name on his tongue, you smile like a loon. 


	9. Chapter 9

It doesn’t take you longer than a morning after to realize you have got it bad, bad, _bad_ for Spider but you don’t see how that is supposed to stop you from denying any of it. As you did with the vast majority of annoying feelings in your short life, you bottle it up, put it in a box, trap it into an engram and throw the proverbial thing into the proverbial unknown of your mind, because it doesn’t reflect you as a Guardian. It reflects you as a person for sure but the Last City, the planet Earth, and the entire collective humanity as a whole doesn’t need a _person_. It needs someone to watch over them. So, you hold on to that notion. 

Your Ghost is not yet familiar with this train of thoughts in your head however, because though you opened up to him, you do have trouble initiating any of that again. So, while you’re having your breakfast one morning, he finds it appropriate to initiate it himself. 

“I gathered and analyzed enough data to be able to form a cohesive initial report about you.” He informs you, very proudly. Oh, by the Light. 

“I am not going to like this, am I?” You ask him. 

“Not one bit.” He confirms just as proudly. You groan. 

“Can we put this off? I don’t know if I can handle another therapy session right now.” 

“Ironically, that’s the part of the problem. You refuse to handle many things of your own for the sake of ‘the bigger picture’ that is the Last City.” 

“... Meaning?” 

“You don’t perceive yourself as a person first.” 

_Are you kidding me?_

“... Have you been reading my mind, Ghost?” You ask half-jokingly. He looks especially proud about that question.

“Light granted us a lot of talents and gifts but not that.” He assures you.

“Well, you're sure very good at it.” 

“It’s all thanks to the magic of psychology and neurological science.” 

“Seeing how I can’t argue magic nor science, yes. You're probably right.”

“... I know you there are a lot of things coming with being a Guardian,” Ghost continues more gently when you fall silent, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t have some time to be yourself.” 

“... Doesn't it?” You've never told this to anyone before. “I mean... I haven’t been given a second chance to live just to waste it on 'normal' life... We are here to _protect_. We have been given a chance to do so, and what’s more, we’ve been given borderline immortality to be able to do so.” What you're trying to say is probably- “I owe it to... to everyone. To the Traveller. To his Little Lights.” You smile at him, gently flick him. “To this entire planet, to all the other plants, every human and every being that suffered... and perhaps most of all, to you, who brought me back. I feel like my debt has yet to be paid.” 

“Now you sound like Mara Sov.” 

You sink into thoughts for a little while. “She isn’t wrong, I think. Not entirely, anyway. But what do I know?” You stretch in your seat. “I’m just a Guardian. I’m here to mend what I can, and strike where it hurts. Nothing more.” 

“... I’m not sure it’s the description that suits any of the Guardians. And I don’t like how you refer to yourself as ‘just’ a Guardian.” 

Aren’t all of you ‘just’ Guardians? Even the Vanguard, what with their legendary reputation. At the end of the day, all of you might die in the field. Many have, many will. 

“... Cayde was ‘just’ a Guardian, too.” You quietly say. “No more, no less.” 

“Cayde took life’s every little moment with as much appreciation as he could. You, of all people, should know that.” 

You don’t have an answer to that. It's true.

“... I would highly recommend you think about your place in the world, Guardian. ‘Guardian’ though I may call you, you’re much more than ‘just’ that. You were _human_ first.” 

You sink into a silence but your Ghost has known you for your silence since you’ve met – he doesn’t hold it against you. He knows you'll reach your own conclusions in time.

You watch the sunrise toigether. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Nearly ten days pass before Spider sends you a message again, which is a lot of time as it is. Sure, you’ve seen each other on business-related occasions but at those times, all you two could manage while aiming for subtlety is relatively safe-worded banter. Not that you mind. Your Fireteam is still impressed by how much Spider seems to respect you, and you don’t mind that kind of reputation as long as nobody suspects just how horny you are every time you’re near him. 

Unfortunately, you have pressing Guardian matters to attend to that are coincidentally way more important than your sexual urges, and you have to send him a subtle message that you won’t be able to make it. You want to imagine you’re in good enough graces with the Spider by now, that he won’t care if you just happen to have some people to save from certain death. 

You don’t know how seriously he’ll take your message however, because Spider has enough of power, eccentricity, and will to do whatever the hell he pleases, and if he were to feel the fancy to pretend to be offended by your raincheck, he will do that in a spectacularly vengeful detail, just so he can laugh at it for a second. 

Or at least, he largely behaves like it is so, and you’re but a victim of his public, threatening persona. 

… You’re thinking about this too much. You worry about disappointing or angering him, you realize; why the Hell would you? You’re a _Guardian_. You have a job to do. If he can’t take it seriously, then he’s simply not as good of a businessman as he claims. 

_You have a job to do._

That fact that you do it, and do it well, doesn’t stop you from feeling really bad about it. 

... Why are you thinking about this so much? 

You force yourself to forget. Perhaps for a good reason too, because only several days later, Spider invites you to visit him again that very afternoon – should you have the time, he adds in the end, and you’re not sure if he is teasing, being considerate, or both - and you can tell it’s been too long of a time because the prospect of it makes you hornier than you thought it would. 

You visit him later than you thought you’d be able to, and rush towards his private hideout, regarding his guards with a nod as you go. They nod back – they are slowly getting used to seeing you at this point. 

Two heavy doors later, you find yourself in the by now familiar space, and find Spider hunched over a huge book. He barely acknowledges you coming in, and simply beckons, still quiet. You approach and lean to get a closer look. 

The book looks old, vastly older than most books you’ve ever seen, which granted, isn’t many. It depicts a stylized person in colorful robes, surrounded with elaborate frames. From what you can tell, they are surrounded by small children with wings. The picture is not bad but it is... _too much_. Text in language you can’t read covers the other page. 

“I’ve been told it might be as much as two thousand years old.” Spider whispers, almost as if too loud a tone might turn the book into dust. “How it survived up until now is beyond me. _Fascinating_ , isn’t it?” 

“If I knew what it was, I might be able to tell you.” You sit across him. Spider helpfully and carefully turns the book to you. You lean in to study the picture and text better. You don’t remember how you know this but you’re pretty sure the text is Latin, which was considered a dead language long before the Traveller came.

“ _Religion_.” He explains briefly, clearly fascinated, and you arch your eyebrow at the book, not that he can see it. 

“Humans used to believe in these?” You gesture to the winged children. 

He laughs briefly. “There is an entire history about it... but I wouldn’t put anything past humans and their imaginations.” Spider elaborates. You stare at the children with the wings. They are not ugly but something about them feels very off. Whoever drew it... almost wanted them to have a haunting, unnatural beauty to them. 

“I’d wager some still believe in old religions today.” Spider continues. “Faith seems to be the crucial lie of every culture, and these days, ‘gods’ are mingling among us.” He grunts. 

“... You say that but there are humans and Eliksni, and other species alike have taken to revering the Traveller as one.” 

“Such an easy solution, isn’t it? To have a _god_ .” He _‘pah’s_. “... But I have to admit I’m the first that would appreciate a miracle from the likes of the Traveller as much as I do a next person’s good work.” 

“You can equate the two?” 

“I would be a hypocrite not to.” He looks up at you. “The Traveller gave me nothing but it gave you _everything_ . In doing so, it gave _me_ a valuable asset.” 

“Asset, huh?” Clearly, he can hear you smiling, and chuckles. For a moment more he is quiet. 

“... At this point in time, perhaps, a friend.” 

The statement makes you feel anxious. 

“Well, friendly advice?” You tap on the table, close to the picture. “This is _ugly_. Ask for your money back.” 

That actually makes him guffaw. “If I had _bought_ it, perhaps I would!” 

Spider gently turns a couple of pages – you can tell he does it with utmost care – before reaching another picture. 

“This one might be more to your taste.” 

The next picture he shows you is not so much a picture of anything you can recognize as much as it is a blatant show of skill. By all intents and purposes, it is just a couple of big letters, drawn stylishly over the entire page. The closer you look, the more details you notice, and the closer still, the more details there are. You have never seen anything drawn like that. 

“Try with this.” Spider offers you a tiny device with lens inside of it. You take it into your hand, and feel kind of stupid in those few seconds before you realize how to use it. 

You hold the lens just above the surface of the paper. You take a breath, lift your helmet temporarily, you lean down, pressing your eye against it. A gasp escapes you. 

Up close, you can spy far more intricate details than you could see at first. It is the work of a masterfully creative and calm hand, etching detail upon detail on a piece of hundreds if not thousands of years old paper. All done by hand, achingly slowly, you can only assume. You don’t dare to think not only how many hours but days and months went into making the entire book. You don’t know much about how things once were but you’re pretty sure dye was scarce two thousand years ago. 

Knowing little to nothing about art, however, you can but sing honest praises to it. 

“This is gorgeous.” You mumble, astonished. “The details are... _astronomically_ small, and yet... This is go-” You repeat yourself, look up and find yourself caught in a strange moment, too sweet of a moment, when you see Spider’s face right next to yours, observing the page beneath you. Though his eyes are relatively foreign to you, you don’t miss the marvel in them. “...-rgeous...” You end the word idly. You don’t get to see this side of someone like Spider, ever. You can’t help but stare at the keen interest his face holds towards the book. 

“I didn’t know you’d have the eye for quality, Guardian.” He says.

“I really don’t.” Your throat is dry, and you have to clear it as you pull down your helmet. “The quality speaks for itself, is all.” 

You personally have no idea why you said that but Spider takes that as an invitation to show you more of the book, which you don’t mind – though you don’t know the first thing about it, you can’t say you aren’t curious. Not to mention, you never heard Spider talk much but when he tells you the meaning behind some of the dead language that is Latin and the original purpose of the book, you can’t help but feel like you are starting to get to know the realer him for the first time. 

… Damn it, he’s got an artsy side as well. You didn’t really need this in the middle of developing a passing fancy. (Because that’s _absolutely_ all that it is, of course.) 

“... Why collect all these things, anyway?” You ask when you two pore through another book, depicting ancient human monuments, some of which still stand today. 

“Humans are unique in this aspect,” Spider starts as he slowly picks up the books, and carefully puts them away into a glass container in the very middle of a large bookshelf. “They have a unique medium of expression that I have failed to notice often in my Fallen brethren and sisters.” He moves to sit next to you, and you very successfully do not tense up, even though you feel like doing so. “Some things have a way of... slipping the attention of my race. Coincidentally, humans appreciate those very things far more.” 

“Things like art?” 

“... Things like those that art tends to express.” Spider continues, and you can tell there are so many words he wants to use... and at the same time, to use just the _right_ ones. “Things of _intimacy_ . Expression of _soul_ . Beauty. Oh,” he actually _chuckles, “especially_ beauty.” 

… You’re pretty sure he didn’t intend on doing so but you can mark today as the day the Spider took your breath away. Not necessarily with the fact you really like listening to him gushing about these things but you really just can’t believe you have the honour of seeing this side of him. You further can’t believe you like it _this_ much. 

“What kind of beauty?” You say with way too quiet, and way too flirty of a voice, and hate yourself for it because he suddenly turns to look at you, and you learn another thing today – ever since the last time you were here, it’s become very hard to look him straight in the eyes, with or without your helmet. 

Your body temperature instantly grows when you hear a sinister chuckle from him. 

“Oh, I think you have an idea.” He puts a hand on your thigh, gently caresses. You still don’t allow yourself to breathe. “I didn’t mean to _neglect_ you, Guardian.” He purrs and you all but gasp when his fingers climb a bit higher. “But I’m starting to think you might enjoy the anticipation.” 

You must absolutely **not** say anything about how hot he was when he spoke about his stupid, adorable, beautiful, dorky collection, you say to yourself. _Absolutely_ fucking not. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” You gently start, ever so subtly spreading your legs a bit. “I happened to have found your art class _very_ invigorating.” 

**FUCK**. 

He laughs, and he laughs in delight. Your heart _flutters_ at the sound. You don’t know if that ever happened. “You should come by more often.” One of his arms wraps around your shoulders as the arm on your leg climbs even further. “There is _plenty_ we can learn together.” His hand finally moves over you and you let out an enormous, positively horny breath of air. 

That big, _sexy_ dolt. You hate yourself for how much you love this. 

“S-Spider-” Fuck, _don’t_ stutter. He doesn’t waste a moments’ time however, and swiftly shifts his position from where he sat, to the floor in front of you. _Oh_ _by the Light._ He messily unfastens your belt, gets rid of your protective knee pads and pulls down your pants and all, pulls your hips closer to that tooth-filled, sexy _fucking_ mouth-- 

“Your turn, Guardian.” 

You stare down at him, dumbly. 

“Wha’?” 

“I’ve given you a something of mine.” He slowly says, breath hot against you. “I expect something in return.” 

... You should have known immediately that Spider gives nothing for free – not even this little insight into his personal life. _What’s fair is fair_ , your crotch says, _you should give him what he wants_. 

Well, you don't mind but how to know what does he want to hear? Surely, he doesn’t want to hear about your own, modest collection of... uh... well... 

“U-um...” 

“Allow me to motivate you.” Spider gives you one long, lazy, slow lick and your spine obediently bends at the sensation. You really want more of it but he’s clearly waiting for you to talk. Your breath quickens, almost as in panic. 

“So, uh-” 

“I’m listening.” He gives your most sensitive part the tiniest of licks, and your brain finally gives way and launches into the most passionate speech you’ve ever given on your cacti. 

“So, succulent plants, right?” You know this’ll be funny later but you’re too horny to think about it now. “I’m sure you’ve seen them. I have like a – ngh!” Spider gives you a generous lick, “-like a whole window sill filled with them. They are cool, what with needing little – ah, _dammit_ – little care and water but are so rewarding to look aaahht !” You gasp as he pulls your legs onto his shoulders, teeth nibbling up and down your thigh. “S-sometimes I go out and...” you breathe out, “look for the places where they still might grow. All but extinct, you know. But so, oh _by the Light,_ they are so perseverant!” Your breath quickens as Spider nibbles his way up to your knee. One hand massages gently at a spot beneath it. 

“S-speaking of p-plants,” you continue, mind melting when one of his other hands – you can’t keep track of them anymore - starts playing around your entrance, “there is this picture I got I’m sure you’d love. I mmmean, it’s a just a print but,” you gasp at his fingers prodding you gently, “but, but, but the flowers on it are _unnaturally_ pretty. Some guy called Afremov did it and **fuck** he knows his colour !” His fingers enter you, and his mouth slowly make their way down your legs and you know exactly how you’ll be rewarded if you just keep talking but _fuck_ , you don’t have the focus for this on the brink of orgasm. “But I prefer black-and-white style myself. The simplicity of them is always done oh _so well_.” The last two words do not refer to the flowers. 

“Spider, _please_.” You grumble.

The Spider chuckles against your skin. “You’ll have to do just a little better than that, Guardian.” He whispers lazily, his mouth so close to being _on_ you. Your breath quickens, you’re so impatient but he’s so damn slow and apparently wants to hear more but what in the world is there-- 

Your brain decides to let your mouth do the work, which in hindsight, is a terrible idea. 

"I don’t like pictures of nature.” You breathe out the confession you held back so far, and your sentences get choppy in between your breath. “I prefer to _go_ out, run. Ride my sparrow against the rain, and the sun, and the snoooh!” You cry out, and have to pause when his tongue is back on you, slowly working on you. His fingers move gently in and out of you but slowly, so slowly, and you hiss when he bends them a slightly little bit. 

“Spider, **would** you--” 

“ _More_ , Guardian.” 

Fucking hell-- 

“Argh!” You bend your back along with his fingers, “I, I love to wander a-and discover! Call it a Hunter in me if you will, ah... it fills me up with life when I find stuff that are _new_ or, or _different_ and _dammit_ -” You start moving, pressing himself further onto his fingers, and you’re so close, so goddamn close if he would just let you shut up for _two_ seconds but your mouth is running ahead of you- “fuck, _you_ were one of them, alright, you son of a- **ah**!” 

Spider all but sinks into your crotch, groans into it, vibrations from his throat but a finishing touch of your orgasm and you trash yourself against him and his tongue, feel teeth as they bite at your tender skin, adding all the necessary tension to the whole thing, and fuck wait what did you just say. 

You don’t have a single moment to get yourself together as Spider turns you around. Your knees are on the floor, your hands automatically grab the back of the couch. You feel his hands on your hips and back, moving your cape out of the way, already feel his hardened member on your entrance. You can hear just how turned on he is, raspy breathing behind your, feel his tongue on your neck.

“... After all **that** , it would be _really_ unfair to leave you wanting.” He eases himself into you with a groan, his breath hot on your ear, and your orgasm already in full swing, your own scream muffled against the couch you’re desperately holding onto. 

“Is this what you imagined when you first discovered _me_ , Guardian?” He hisses into your ear. 

You find it in you to chuckle, turn you head just enough to look at him, and though he can’t see it, he can hear your grin, your voice, dripping with sin: 

“ _It’s way better_.” 

Spider fucks you then and there without a single coherent word more, air filled with nothing but two weeks' worth of pleasurable cries and desperate curses. It is nothing like the last few times but you don’t give a damn because you’ve tried to replicate this feeling yourself and nothing helps anymore; there is nothing, and probably no one that can possibly be put in place of a someone like Spider and make you feel the same feeling from head to toe, the continuous onslaught of orgasms raging in your body, seeing how riled up he gets over someone like you, catching glances of his face, hearing his heavy breathing and the noises he involuntarily makes whenever you make it a point if clenching your own body, and it goes on for what feels like hours... 

When you’re done, you’re both a mess. Half-naked, clothes ruined in places, covered in your fluids and sweat, looking so thoroughly worn out, yet both looking almost just as turned on when you got here. You hate the fact it all lasted so long but seemed like such a short experience now that it ended. 

You’re both catching your breath as you turn around. You both sit on the lush carpeted floor. 

… It feels unnaturally comfy.

“... Wow.” You say breathlessly. “That was... wow.” 

“Of all the words in the English language.” Spider teases, and you chuckle.

“Chances are, you learned it better than I have.” You continue as you start fastening your belt, when Spider's hand lands on yours, stopping you. You look up. 

“What is it?” 

Spider has that thoughtful look he had last time. You decide not to hurry it, lest he ends up not saying anything again. You’re way too curious at this point. 

“... You better not be suggesting we stop it here.” It isn't a question but it sounds like one.

When did you _ever_?

You don’t say that aloud, of course, instead curiously cocking your head. 

“... What did you have in mind?” You ask seductively. Spider slowly stands up, offers you his hand, which your graciously accept. You don’t expect him to swing you around and pick you up, your eyes leveled. 

“... You humans have an expression, if I’m not wrong.” He cocks his head. “... Stay the night, Guardian?” After the shortest of pauses, he adds: “I’m sure we can... teach each other a lot in the course of it.” 

_THIS. IS. HAPPENING._

“... Hmm, on one condition.” You say after a long silence, and catch him completely of guard with that comment. You soften him up soon, however, when you lift your helmet again, and kiss him briefly. 

“ **I** get to take off my helmet this time around.” 

The Spider snickers. It sounds casual. Too casual.

Why do you love it so much?

“I’ll manage, Guardian.” 


	10. Chapter 10

You wake up suddenly. Nothing is in focus, so you close your eyes shut. Your head doesn’t ache but honestly, it doesn’t feel like it stands on your shoulders at all. Rather, it’s like your own brain is swimming in a pool. When you try to sit up, you fall back down immediately, as if made of water. 

First signs of panic start setting in when you hear a playful voice in your ear. 

“Easy, Guardian. You have proven yourself, no need to force it.” 

And then you start remembering, slowly and dimly but enough to realize you’re just hungover. 

… Or at least, it's this drinks' form of it. Typically, you’d suffer headaches, or dizziness, or nausea. Now there’s none of that stuff but you can’t for the life of you sit up or move in any manner that helps you get around. You'll have to ask Spider to get some more of that stuff, because you can see yourself spending a hangover lying around rather than fighting the urge to throw up.

You open your eyes a crack again but all you can detect with certainty is the four of his glowing eyes. You say something you can’t understand yourself but he seems to, because he laughs. 

“No, you are still very much alive. Allow me to help you.” 

Feeling as if you very skin is liquid matter, you jump when his hands touch you, firmer and rougher than usual. You say something entirely incoherent, and it angers you that you can’t hear yourself, so you shout at the top of your lungs... Or at least you think you are; all that comes out is less than a steady voice: “Can’t move. Why ‘s everythin’ so _sensitive_?” You want to laugh at your own slurred speech but you don’t have the strength to. 

“It can have an unusual effect on your kind, if consumed in those... _impressive_ quantities.” You can tell he’s amused. “It’s less painful than your spirits but troublesome.” 

_I’ll_ _say_ _._ You feel Spider’s body on your back and realize you’re siting against him, head lying on his chest. The thought fills you with warmth. His firm skin feels like it tingles against yours. 

“Can’t see.” You tell him. 

“Give it a little while, Guardian.” 

Seconds feel like hours to you but eventually your sight opens up to other things in Spider’s lodgings. You detect the flickering of an old human machine from the time long past, playing some distant tune. You see your clothes and his, scattered around. There is a big, empty glass bottle and a single glass on a small table nearby. The other glass, you can dimly recall, has shattered… somehow. 

He sees you checking the bottle out, you assume, because you again feel a chuckle in him. 

“Like I said, you more than proved yourself to me.” 

Details from the last night slowly start to trickle in, and you actually manage a laugh. Not because of all the stupid things you said and joked about, not because of the absolutely fantastic sex you had, and not because you got so incredibly drunk on a completely foreign drink yet still managed to give yourself to him one more time before you passed out in his bed. 

You laugh because it happened and you can’t believe it did. You said it yesterday to him, didn’t you? You loved discovering all things different and new. 

… The Spider that was with you here last night was very different, very new and you’re very into it. 

Fuck, you got it _bad_. 

“... That was amazin'.” You comment on the last night and hear him emit a playful sound. 

“Indeed, so I’ve been told. Again ...and again... and _again_ .” He pulls you close to him and nibbles at your neck. Oh by the _Light_ how it pinches. 

"I told you; you’re getting too smug.” You try to squirm away but it’s hard when your arms are less than rubber. 

“It is you I blame for that, Guardian.” 

You try to escape his arms for a while because it’s fun and judging by his laughter, it must look very amusing. 

“Lemme go.” You mumble. 

“Oh, not yet. I’m afraid I’m going to have to use you for a little while.” 

You smile to yourself - that doesn’t sound so baaAAH **FUCK** \- 

“ **Stop**!” Your voice finally finds it in itself to actually sound of louder. 

“Mm?” 

You fight for breath. His hand was on you moment ago but _fuck_ you must be way more sensitive than you initially assumed.

“It’s- too much.” You gasp out. You hear a knowing _‘oh’_. 

“Well then...” His hands crawl to your hips, making lazy trips up and down. You didn’t know how turned on it could make you but here you are. 

“Nnn!” You shift in place and try to find something to grab on to. You take hold of what takes you a moment to realize are his knees. 

The other two of his hands get lost in mowing through your hair and _oh that feels so good._

_“_ Last night,” Spider slowly whispers in your hair, hot breath on the back of your neck, “was more than I expected of you, Guardian.” 

“You’ll have t’ forgive me...” You start, your speech still a bit off; not to mention you’re utterly distracted by your skin screaming for his touch, “the details of it are a lil' hazy.” 

“No, Guardian. You’ll have to forgive _me_ for putting you in this... vulnerable position.” 

“I don’t mind.” You say sweetly, pressing yourself into his hands. 

“I am certain you don’t.” He pauses, and you can sense some sort of apprehension from him. “... But it’s not what I’m talking about. You see, the aftereffects of the drink we had apply to will of the mind as well as the will of the body.” 

“... You telling me I’m in for an interrogation?” You lazily ask. “’Cause that’s kinda hot.” 

You’re making a joke but he does not react. 

… Oh fuck, that’s exactly what this is, huh. The suddenness of the realization helps you get your head around a bit, if anything. 

“It was not my intention, if you can believe it.” His hands settle on your groins, and fill you with a seething hot sensation. “But now that the chance is here, I don’t think I can resist asking you a question.” 

“Just one, huh?” You turn your head around and grin at him. “What an honest schemer you are.” 

“... I have no desire to deceive you, Guardian.” He scoffs. "Not yet, anyway."

“Ha!” You’re not sure if you laugh because you find it hard to believe, or if it’s just the fact such words are coming from him, of all people. Maybe both. No matter what the case is, his words make your heart race. “Well, shoot then. I got nothing to hide from you.” Even as you say that, you’re not sure if it’s true. 

“Heh.” You can feel his chin on top of your head, his hands spreading over your legs, other two lowering on your shoulders. Almost like a warm bath. You wish you could hold onto the moment forever, because whatever he might ask might not be something you desire to answer. At least he was honest with the fact he was going to prod.

He catches you off guard when he gives a gentle kiss – the first kiss he ever gave you – on your shoulder. You think he might've done that on purpose to shock you.

“What was it that drew you to me, Guardian?” 

… You did not expect a personal question. You expected him to ask something secretive, to seek an information that he could turn into a profit. Something related to your duty as a Guardian. That would be easy to answer, because you know little yourself. This however, you know a lot about. Too much. _Too_ much. 

You have to try your hardest not to give him an entire answer, and you’re lucky your brain is quicker than your mouth by a millisecond, because you got time to form words that don’t necessarily sound as bad. The full version of your answer would probably be you going on a tangent to tell him how refreshing his easy-going attitude was in a world where death was all around, how you feel you can almost remember, instinctively, the humanity that once was when you two talk about such irrelevant things as art and cacti in this day and age, and how solitude has been eating you alive since Cayde, one of the few real friends you had, had perished. 

You manage to shorten it by a significant amount. 

“I was... _really_ lonely, and alone, and... you made me feel like I don’t have to be either.” Pause. “Also, you’re pretty hot.” 

You know he could easily press you for answers because you are burning with desire to tell all of that to him, and because he _would_ do such a thing if he wanted. He, however, doesn’t, and just laughs at your remark at the end. 

An honest schemer, indeed. 

~*~*~*~ 

… You realize with sudden sadness that you haven’t heard Cayde in weeks. 

Well, to be more precise, you haven’t seen him, not properly. His image appears rarely, and it is mostly his jokes and quips that have stuck with you, your mind occasionally switching the sound of your own inner voice with his. But weeks have passed since you’ve last _seen_ him, talked to him as if he were there. 

By all means, it should be a good thing. It means you haven’t gone completely insane yet. 

At the very superficial level, you’re just sad about it. The suddenness of it, however, troubles you – you're no doctor but you feel like there is a storm brewing in the depths of your mind that you haven’t explored yet. 

“Might as well be.” Your Ghost tells you when you finally decide to confide in him. “Grief is not something to be taken with a grain of salt. Of course, with your work as a Guardian, and newly established private distractions, it is normal that the mind tries to escape the necessity of thinking about it.” 

"Isn’t that the point?” 

“The point is to face your troubles. To have that happen, you need to be ready for changes.” 

“You make it sound like I’m going to a war.” 

“You are already at war with yourself. I told you before,” he whirs, “you were a human, a person, an individual... before you were a Guardian. But one does not exclude the other.” 

“... It sounds easier, being a Guardian alone.” The words finally cross your lips. He seems taken aback for a moment. 

“... Maybe,” Ghost agrees, “...if being a Guardian was as you imagine it.” 

You have a relatively... _unflattering_ idea of what being a Guardian entails. Guardians are faceless. One of many with a simple goal in sight. Your Ghost always knew your point of view. What you didn’t realize, is that he thinks you’re wrong, and you imagine this is what he has been trying to tell you. No matter how much you’d prefer to be this imaginary concept of a Guardian with no mind and heart of their own, the humanity in you prevails. The friendship you had with Cayde. Whatever it is you have going on with Spider. Even your stupid succulent collection. It’s all there somewhere: things you don’t usually talk about, things you hide, things you deem ‘not important’… until you’ve had enough, until you start hallucinating, or disappear for a day to look for a cactus. 

“There is something else I noticed.” Ghost says. You nod. 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“About the Spider.” 

You dreaded this. Ghost has been looking at the crime lord unkindly since he first saw him. This was to be expected. You prepare yourself. 

“Yes?” 

“You should keep it up. He’s good for you.” 

You nearly choke on your own spit. 

“ _Excuse_ me?” 

“From what I managed to gather before and after your visits to him... he helps you connect.” 

“Connect to what?” 

“Not ‘to’ what. _Connect_.” He chirps. “The ‘person’ and ‘the Guardian’ I know are one and the same... or at least, they were... when Cayde was still with us. After that, they were so largely in my presence alone.” Ghost pauses. “Now, they are the same in Spider’s as well. I told you. One does not exclude the other.” 

“... The Eliksni crime lord who collects little dead Lights is ‘good for me?’” You ask sarcastically. He instantly calls you out: 

“I know for a fact you don’t care about any of those things. Why bring them up?” 

You both realize he caught you in the very lie you’ve been telling yourself from the start - it's just sex, it's just attraction, he's too this or too that, he's a criminal, he is a weirdo with macabre collections - and you can’t help but blush because it's not only that you don't care about any of those things but some of them straight up fascinate you in the best way.

Though you’ve learned by now there is no running away from your own stupid feelings, you feel like this is too much information for your brain to process right now. “... I’m a little overwhelmed, Ghost.” You admit quietly. The little Light floats over to you, and nudges your head. 

“Anyone would be. You can’t possibly see the magnitude of the steps you recently took.” He floats in front of you, and you meet his gaze. “I’m here to help you see them, no matter how long it takes.” 

“… Thank you.” 

There is not much more you can say except those word, and yet, you wish you could. 

... Perhaps you could be honest with yourself for a moment, he's sure to appreciate it.

"Ghost?"

"Yes, Guardian?"

"I don't think I told you all..."

… You say you’re overwhelmed but realize that’s not it. 

You’re **terrified**. 

Dots in your head connect. 

You get up. 

“Guardian?” 

“Come with me.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

You all but barge into the Prison of Elders. Your fast pace turns into a race as if against time itself, down and down until you reach the very place where he-- 

You find Cayde sitting in the middle of the room, on the exact spot where he let out his very last breath. 

“One final conversation, Ghost... and I’ll need you here for it.” 

Ghost says nothing - because he understands perfectly. 

Cayde stands up, smiling at you. It's a smile you're eagerly returning.

"About time! I was about to die again of sheer boredom.” 

“Turns out...,” you start, out of breath, “ you were wrong! There **is** something to talk to _you_ about.” 

He shakes his head, grins. “Ha. Couldn’t fool you forever, could I?” He crosses his arms. “Well then, let’s hear it.” 

So, you tell Cayde and by extension, your Ghost, everything, rambling like a lunatic but feeling easier by the second. How Cayde’s own death put the fear of your own into you. To lose a prestigious member of the Vanguard of all people – how are you going to fare against all the horrors of the universe, when Cayde himself was killed by his own gun? You’ve never lost something as precious as a friend that day and in fear of losing more, have felt it easier to be ‘just’ a Guardian rather than everything you could be. But being ‘just enough’ every day, for a long time, has its price, and the depths of your loneliness have made you reach out for someone who, perhaps, separated themselves from the world as well, and who could after a while understand you and trust you and desire you and perhaps even more. If anything, you deserved more. But at the end of the day, what you realized is--

“I am going to perish the same way you did, Cayde.” You finally say. “In battle, fighting. There is no other way for Guardians. That day could be today, or tomorrow or a long time from now but no matter the time I have, I want to use it to--” To what? Why do words escape you? 

Cayde, the ironically dead man, helps you out by finishing your line: “You want to use it to _live_ , kid. To actually live! And you should. No one is asking any more nor less of you. Guardian or not, your life is yours to do so.” 

You hug him, and though it isn’t real and he isn’t there you don’t give a damn, because his arms wrapping around you _feel_ real, and that’s all you need right now. 

“... Goodbye, Cayde.” 

“It’s not a goodbye. You see, I know for certain, wherever you might go...” He looks at you, and winks, “... you’ll take me with you.” 

You laugh, shut your eyes to suppress tears. What is more appropriate to do than laugh, when laughter is all he ever wanted to hear? 

You don’t open your eyes, holding on to the illusion just a little bit longer, believing for just a moment more that he is really there. 

_I’m always here, kid._

Your eyes snap open, because the voice has moved into your head. 

Cayde is gone. He is gone, once and for all. 

And you...

... you can finally breathe. 


	11. Chapter 11

There is something... therapeutic about talking to your Ghost on a daily basis, especially when you’re encouraged to do so. 

There is something lovely about your succulent and cacti, drinking in the Sun, blossoming. There is something relieving about crying. You find out all these things one by one, and slowly and surely, they change your life for the better. Slowly and surely, you remember the person in you that you’ve been trying to hide for so long. You feel better than you have in a long time, and you remember to thank your Ghost daily for it, so much so that he starts getting embarrassed by it. You don’t really care. You owe everything to him. 

Life, finally, makes some semblance of sense in the chaotic world you were born in. 

… There is just one, slightly bothersome thing. 

You don’t really want to say or admit it. But the fact stands. And at some point, very, very late one night, having just thought about how you haven’t seen Spider in a while, you allow yourself to say it aloud, terrified of it and needing it and enjoying it. 

“... Fuck. I really like him.” 

You have had crushes and interests and casual night before, sure. But deeper connection? A thing like... _this_? 

“It’s different? Different ‘how?’” Your Ghost asks you later in the day, when you finally cave.

“... I don’t think you can put this _thing_ into words, Ghost.” 

“According to the archives, it used to be the one single thing people used to cover the most in music, literature and similar media. 

“By the Light, did people have nothing better to do?” 

“My point being, you must have _some_ words to share.” 

“Alright, fine. Let me try.” You chuckle. “I suppose...” Well, you suppose what? Ghost makes it sound like it’s a walk in the park to describe... _this_. “It’s like when you do...” pause, “and then it...,” you lose another word, “and then you just...,” you follow each of your tries with an interesting gesture of your arms, as if those explain the rest that you can’t tell out loud. Your much too pragmatic Ghost hums in confusion. 

“I don’t think I understand.” 

“Well... I tried.” You apologetically offer. He sighs. 

“You tried.” He admits, and you smile at him. “... So, what next?” 

“... One step at a time, Ghost.” 

“Good answer.” 

You watch the sunset together. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

A while passes before you can visit Spider again. Nearly two weeks pass, in fact, since you’ve last seen each other, and you’re all too eager to slip into his arms. 

_Just a passing fancy._ You’re still firmly telling yourself, hoping your brain will find it in itself to understand that any kind of ‘ _romance_ ’ with someone like Spider is simply not a thing that can happen. Besides, who are you to complain? You got exactly what you wanted from him, and he’s more than happy to have you all night long at his side when the chance occurs. You never thought you two would strike such a... 'mutually-beneficial friendship' to begin with. 

You move past his guard, who nod at you the moment they see you, slip into the secret hallway, and are already crossing the dark room- 

“Well... hello, Guardian.” His whisper from the dark makes you jump. Spider is hunched over in the largest chair there, his luminous eyes a striking thing in the darkness. 

You hope he didn't notice you automatically reaching for your gun, and you subtly lower your hand. 

“What a welcome.” You breathe out. “Next time, I won’t be responsible for any injuries I cau-” 

Again, Spider proves to be quicker than he seems, for you are suddenly pressed against the wall. Eyes stare down at you, his arms pinning you against the old metal. Even before he speaks again, you can already feel him unlatching pieces of your armor, and pulling at your clothes. 

“ _You_ \- are - **late**.” 

Oh, he sounds angry. 

"… There is a curfew?” You manage as you deal with some of his own clothes, heat already in your loins. 

“It’s been much too long of a time Guardian.” Oh, he is **so** angry in the _best_ possible way. “You’re testing my patience." He continues, aggressively getting you out of your trousers. You unlatch your breastplate in the meantime. 

“Am I now?” You cock your head and carefully consider how much do you want a very hungry, frustrated, turned-on Spider with you in this dark, unwelcoming room. Wait, that’s exactly what you’d like. 

“... _What are you going to do about it_?”

Those words never fail, you think to yourself smugly and now is not the exception. He doesn’t waste a moment’s time in lifting you up against the wall the moment your bottom is naked. Your thighs and buttocks and nested neatly in his lower arms, and you gasp when his claws dig into your skin. He uses the other pair of hands to hold your wrists against the wall. 

Oh... oh _no_. You **love** this. 

“I don’t like being taken for a fool.” He murmurs, voice dripping with irritation. “I usually take up to... _chastising_ those who think me one.” His teeth feel dangerously sharp against your jugular, sharper than usual, and the imminent danger of it makes you gasp. 

“I can take whatever you give me.” You husk, and you can feel his own growl vibrating against your throat. 

“As you always do, my Guardian.” He starts slowly grinding his member against you, both of you desperate for friction of any kind. His breath is on your chest, his teeth trace against your nipple and you exhale at the sensation. By the Light, you feel as if it’s been ages and not weeks since you’ve been touched this way. 

“I see you’ve been just as frustrated.” The Spider teases when you buckle in his arms, letting out an impatient grunt. 

“Maybe I just ‘ _enjoy the anticipation_ ’.” You throw back his own line at him, and Spider chuckles menacingly, giving you shivers. 

“I’ll make sure to remedy that.” You can feel the wetness of his member at your entrance and gasp. 

“W-wait-” You weakly begin, not sure if you both hurried up a bit too much for comfort, and close your mouth immediately when you feel the excessive slickness and wetness of him, and you let out a soft ‘oh’ as he slowly starts entering you, whispering in your ear: 

“Hmm? Are you not enjoying yourself, light-bearer?” 

“... Not yet.” You challenge.

The Spider’s whisper turns into a snarl, and he moves his hips and oh fuck, _oh fuck_ \- “Ah!” You are already so close... but unlike his usually... passionate self, Spider takes his sweet time thrusting into you, even doing so much too gently than you'd expect of him.

_Oh that bastard. He actually meant it!_

“Fuck, Spider, just-” 

“ _Easy_ , Guardian,” he grunts as he slowly presses into you again, and you are again just one more tiny bit away—and then he eases out, “I thought you’d enjoy this sort of... **torture**.” Fuck how can such a terrible word sound so good in his mouth? 

“Oh you’re such an-” He never hears what he is, because he presses into you again, just barely reaching that goddamn spot that makes you see stars. “Spider!” You plead, completely unintentionally. 

“ _Guardian_?” He rasps, and you can tell he wants you to simply tell him what to do and try as you might you can’t resist. You want him to be the one to break but you find yourself being the first one to do so, as his member again brushes just against that spot that screams-

“Just _fuck_ me alrea-” You don’t get to finish that sentence, a cry escaping you instead as Spider hurries to thrust hungrily into you, again and again, climax after climax feeling as if they are fighting to reach you, the feeling in your lower abdomen akin to a bubbling frenzy. His movements are erratic and strong and almost angry, and your body is all the more thankful for all the frustration he’s getting rid of by continually forcing your body against the wall, by clenching at your skin nearly to the point of puncturing it, by just barely resisting biting down on the supple skin of your shoulder- 

Just how can it be that even the dirtiest, quickest, roughest of your meetings can mean so much to you? His hands have subtly moved from your wrists and into your own palms. You swear your name has slipped him again. You wish he'd stop giving you hope. You wish your heart didn't enjoy this as much as your body.

“More.” You say hoarsley when you hear his groans growing louder. 

“... More, Guardian?” He breathes out, and you breathe back: 

“ _All of it_.” 

Spider doesn’t need an explanation – with a twitch, desperate for release, he comes into you growling and snarling, and it’s hotter than your own insides and you can feel its tingling property in your lower abdomen and you cry out for him and for the Light as your hands grip his firmly.

Spider holds you in place for a moment before he slowly eases out and gently lets your feet touch the ground. You let out a shuddered breath. 

“Next time,” he starts, out of breath, “try not to be late.” 

“... If this is how it’ll play out, I absolutely will be.” 

You can hear him chuckle as he gets dressed and helps you clean up and do the same. Initially, you have found it a simple, nice courtesy but, in all honesty? When he does that, you feel a certain sort of softness inside of you that you usually keep on the lowdown but today it’s particularly strong and loud and- 

“Thank you.” 

It must be the first time you thanked him for something like this, for it seems to catch him off guard as well. 

He reminds you very much of yourself, replying with jokes to things that surprise you, when he laughs and replies playfully: 

“As always, the pleasure is mine.” 

He would say that wouldn’t he? 

“Now then.” He straightens himself up. “We’ve gotten this... _pesky_ problem out of the way; drink, Guardian?” 

“Do you even have to ask.” You grin and he opens the door for you. 

“I suppose not... courtesy, however, _is_ a form of courtship.” 

Your face **burns**. You think he might not have a clear idea of the meaning of the word ‘courtship’, and decide that’s absolutely what it is – nobody's English can be perfect, you assume. You silently make your way inside. 

“To all things pleasant!” Spider invokes soon after. 

“And pleasurable!” You two toast, the clink of glass echoing joyfully through the room that suddenly looks very different to you, because try as you might, you can’t throw the word ‘courtship’ out of your head. You gesture for him to give you another, because you want to leave it behind as soon as possible. 

“Slow down. You wouldn't like me to... _interrogate_ you again.” Spider warns, and you scoff. 

“I don’t know, you make it sound very alluring.” 

“I’d pry deeper than the last time.” 

“Yeah, I hear you’re good at that.” 

Hearing him laugh at your inappropriate humour is slowly becoming one of those things that make you feel like you’re floating. 

**_It is just. A PASSING. FANCY._ **

“But hey, now that we’re both sober...” 

“Hmm?” 

“Could you answer _me_ a question?” 

“You can always count on my... integrity.” 

Like Hell you can, and he knows it, the smirking bastard.

“The same as yours.” You cross your legs, lean back. “What drew _you_ to **me**?” 

“Oh!” He laughs almost jovially. “Why, one would think it is obvious that a person such as you would be...” He pauses. “... Helplessly attractive to the most. People like you have a _nasty_ habit of getting things that are usually unobtainable.” 

“You consider yourself unobtainable?” You croak out, trying to ignore the compliment and deciding not to wonder what 'people like you' means.

“As any good businessman should. Of course,” his eyes seem to have glowed with a spark, “there are always exceptions.” 

You start to regret asking, because it grows warm so often under this helmet. It is as honest of an answer you’d get; you assume. It’s the simplest one he can give you, anyway. 

“Speaking of which, I must admit, Guardian.” He continues, a bit quieter, “I did not expect you of all people to get lonely.” 

“... Ah.” It’s your turn to speak, you assume. “... Cayde-6 was... one of the few, and one of the dearest friends I had.” 

“... Ah.” Realization. Perhaps neither of you expected to reach such a subject but if he has anything against it, he doesn’t express it. Rather, he waits. 

“It’s been a rough period since.” You add. “And I’ve... only recently, gotten better.” 

He drinks in every one of your words with so much attention that it makes you uncomfortable. 

“... What?” You finally ask, and Spider snaps out of it. This is the second time you caught him in thought. 

“It occurs to me today, Guardian, that I don’t know much about you at all.” 

“Heh!” You grin at him. “Out of sight, out of mind, Spider.” 

“Oh, on the contrary. The less I see of you, the more intently do I desire to see you again.” 

… You start to think maybe Spider really doesn’t know his English or maybe you’re translating everything he say the way your dumb-ass, enamored brain wants you to. He is clearly talking about sex. _Moving on._

“... Well, you got me.” You leisurely say. “The number of nights where I thought about you, in my bed...” Your voice drops a bit, “perhaps you’re onto something there.” 

He growls lowly, chuckles. You really wish he were next to you. Driving your conversations towards the point where you put your hands on each other again seems to have become a talent of yours. That way, you could try not to think about how Spider has basically told you, twice today, that he’s into you in a non-exclusively-sexual way. 

Bad English, you tell yourself. You ought to teach him sometimes, the nuances in the language. 

“Lost in thought?” He teases. 

"Around you? All the time." You flirtatiously reply. He laughs earnestly and it makes your breath halt. 

“You, Guardian...,” He looks up at you and there is something strange in his expression, “... You’re so much more than I bargained for.” 

“So are you.” You admit softly.

You admitted. Softly, at that. There was no mistaking your tone. You get the insight it might not have been bad English. In Spider’s own, convoluted language, you remember... these words mean... 

Have you two just expressed something... _more_? 

The implications are overwhelming in every sense of that word. You’re not sure you can deal with this so suddenly. You're not sure you can accept it, if it’s true. You don’t even know what your own feelings on the matter are- 

_Of course you know; you love him, you moron._

You down your drink. Your heart is racing as if fighting to break free. Your hands tighten on your knees and you fight the impulse to simply stand up and escape this place forever and- 

“Guardian.” 

Your head snaps to him, and your breath is audible in the otherwise quiet room. He puts his breathing apparatus back on.

“... Come with me. I need to show you something.” 

“... Alright.” 

You two exit his personal space, and walk the halls of his hideout. With a simple move of his hand, he gestures to his Guards and they leave you alone. Only your footsteps echo throughout the hallway, and you stop in front of his throne. 

He clears his throat. 

And then Spider sings – he **sings** , you realize, utterly baffled – a very familiar but entirely mysterious tune in a foreign language you’ve never heard before but feel like you should have. You wonder why is he doing that but as he reaches the finishing note, the throne before him dematerializes... and there is a staircase before you. 

… You’re not sure which fact struck you with awe more – the secret hideout underneath the hideout or the fact you just saw Spider sing. Passphrase though it may be, it was still so- 

“After you.” Spider gestures for you to move. You move down as if heading to your own execution, wondering what will you see down here. What is it that he wants to show you.

... You do not expect to see what you are seeing, because the meaning behind it is... well it is... words escape you but heart drums in their place.

“Well, Guardian! If you thought my abode up there was my most... personal space, well,” he gestures grandly around, “I’m afraid I might have deceived you after all.” 

You look all around at the vast and amazing collections of things you know, simply know are the remnants of human civilizations long gone. From simple things such as cutlery and dishes and tools, to the impressive mechanisms like old clocks and communications devices and things you can’t even name, to old parts of vehicles humans once had, abundance of art, books of all shapes and colours, dusty bottles of never-opened wines and spirits waiting forever to be consumed, hallway after hallway of paintings of all kinds-- 

“Why are you showing me this?” You ask, largely terrified and hopeful of the answer. 

“... You should know why at this point, Guardian.” You turn around to face him. You can tell there is a smile beneath that mask. “I can’t show it to anyone else.” 

The full weight of what he is saying registers with you faintly. This can't be happening.

_… This is actually happening._

“S- _Spider_.” You’ve never stuttered in your life, you think. He must think so too.

“ _Oh_?” There is a chuckle as he draws closer, and each of his steps feel like a lifetime. He puts his hands gently on your shoulders, and you feel like you're engulfed in a fire. You can't hold eye contact properly. “My Guardian, _shy_? This is new to me.” 

“ _By the Light.._.” You mumble, and for a change, all words fail you. He finds it endlessly amusing- or perhaps, endearing? 

“...You have shown me all the deepest and most intimate of your desires, bared to me yourself and your needs more times than I can count. You have... seduced me, over and over again, Guardian, and yet... you can’t look me in the eyes _now_?” His hand gently takes hold of your chin, and by extension, you now need to stare into those luminous eyes and o _h goodness the way he looks at you._ “It's exactly _now_ that you should.” 

Your head is spinning. Have you been so obvious **all** this time? Have you been so blinded by your own denial that you didn’t see this look, this look of his right there, staring you in the eyes? When was the point where this became something more? Questions spin in your head yet Spider looks as if he has already figured out all the necessary answers. 

You realize he’s taking off your helmet. He’s taking off his mask. Your face, for the first time ever, is gently cupped by his hand. You’re not sure if you ever felt his hand against your cheek and it exhilarates you, and you blush and your fingers reach up to press against the back of his hand. It is... too intimate. Almost too intimate, and though a part of you fights to run away, a part of you keeps you firmly in place, wanting this for so long. So divided, all you can do is look at him, and his face is leaning closer to yours, and just before it happens, you realize- 

You two have never kissed. 

It is an almost clumsy kiss... but it burns. It is chaste but it makes your heart beat stronger than ever. It is not a kiss that was meant to be but you feel as it is. 

… You never knew you were this shy about your... emotions; the moment he lets go of your lips, you move and plant your face in his chest. He laughs. 

“Guardian-” 

“Just... give me a moment.” 

He gives you all the time you need, arms wrapping around your back and pressing you close, fingers tangling in your hair and you realize you’ve never embraced like this before, either. You let out a heavy breath of air. When you move back to look him in the eyes again, it is infinitely harder than before. It is also infinitely more beautiful to look at him and know, know that there are depths of this person before you that you managed to reach, and that you'll spend a lot of time exploring, learning, discovering about the enigma that is the Spider.

“Wow.” You say, more to yourself than anyone else. 

Spider laughs as he takes you by the hand, and rests his chin against your forehead, as he did so many times before. “Of all the words, Guardian? Of all the English language?”

“... I’ll do you one better. How about...” you smile to yourself, “’ _I have a proposition for you._ ’” 

~*~*~*~*~

.

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The end... ?

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.

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**The beginning of the end, sad to say. But it isn't over yet.**

**Thank you all, for everything.**


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you.

You have gone missing a month ago. Frankly, you’ve had quite enough of it. 

Your Ghost and you pushed yourself a bit too far for good measure this time around. You went after one challenge too many, ran after one Hive abomination that managed to scurry away before the scope of your bow-- and as you ran after it, the ground under your feet had cracked, and opened to swallow you, and you fell... deep, deep, _deep_ into the dreadful unknown of the Moon. 

When your Ghost resurrected you, you both had no idea where you were. He had been looking for you for a while, he had said, and the tunnels stretches into every and all directions. The signal from your Fireteam is dead. Any and every signal is there might be, might as well not exist. It has already been a day, and there was no sign of them. All that was around you, were the distant screeches of things yet to be slain. 

So, you walked. 

Water was scarce. You’d rather not remember the things you had to eat to survive, because starving to death is a story you heard once, and you had no intention of living through it yourself. Tunnel after tunnel, you searched, marked the walls with the tips of your arrows – and drew doodles when you were bored – looped and looped until you dropped, killed countless abominations in the process, and a passage that took you three days to traverse would take you back to where you started. Sure, you’d kick at the damn walls in anger and frustration, and swear to exterminate the Hive as both a race and an idea but you knew you’d find a way out... eventually. 

You walked on. 

You have gone missing one month ago. 

You’re only now starting to get the idea that the possibility of you being trapped might be true, after using the last of the grenades in spots where you thought something might hide. They had hardly scratched the walls. No matter. Your Ghost agrees – no matter. You will find the way. Don't you always? 

You walk on. 

You have gone missing a month and one week ago. 

You see Cayde. You're momentarily happy to be losing your cool again but then realize it is not the Cayde you knew. You resolutely ignore the hallucinatory thing that stars from the dark. It does't help you sleep, that's for sure.

You still walk because your Ghost encourages you to. The strength he keeps giving you doesn’t feel as strong anymore, and you suspect his own Light is slowly, painfully fading in this den of sin. If there is any truth to it, Ghost doesn’t speak of it. His own courage gives _you_ courage. 

You walk on. 

You have gone missing a month, two weeks, and four days ago. 

Your Ghost at some point informs you two years had passed. You feel panic in you before you realize it can't be true. It occurs to you that his own strength is waning at the same speed as yours when he informs you it had been a month only five minutes after his first approximation. Whatever kind of inner clock it has, you can't quite count in it anymore.

 _Something_ in you wants to give in. It’s not the sheer boredom, or the painful ache that occurs when you think of the Tower, and the Last City, and the Earth, and the Tangled Shore, and the space between planets and the distances between stars. It is not that you haven’t eaten properly in a while, nor heard a living being aside from your Ghost, nor slept in a comfortable bed. _Something_ that drains you is within these walls. You can only imagine it is but a sleeping threat you encountered before its time has come. Something hides here, and both you and your Ghost feel it, and are slow victims to it... Something of Darkness.

It would be foolish to not come back to the Last City, and warn the Vanguard about it. It gives you determination. 

You walk on. 

You have gone missing two months, three days and thirteen hours ago... Not that you can tell for sure anymore.

You crawl on all fours and try to keep your sanity attached by counting the step of each of your hands and feet. Your Ghost spins through the air like a feather in the wind, bumping into walls of the cave occasionally. Still, he lights your way as it always has. He has stopped talking days ago. But the Light is persistent. 

On the far, far end of the tunnel, you see a flicker. 

You’ve seen it before. It is deceitful. It’s a Hive thrall, ready to explode and take your life with its own. In a moment like this, as a sole source of entertainment, it excites you to see it, and you pull at your waning strength to shoot it. Though your aim is true, your arrow flies away into nothing. 

… Into _sky_. 

“... _Eyes up, Guardian_.” Ghost whispers for the first time in a while, an old note of optimism back in his voice. 

And then there is a faraway breeze on your face. 

You smile. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

You have been missing for five months, nine days and seventeen hours before you were found. 

In hindsight, this kind of thing is... relatively normal with Guardians, you think to yourself. It doesn’t stop your Fireteam from shedding tears of happiness when you're found, and it definitely doesn’t stop the entire population of Tower from celebrating your return... but you realize you know a lot of similar horror stories that have, months and years later, been told and retold as both the grand adventures and interesting anecdotes. After all, Guardians can’t really die easily. 

It is a horrible thing to experience firsthand. It has... consequences, that you’d rather not think about. But it is much easier to laugh about it later when you’re a Guardian. 

You know _one_ person who will not be able to understand this, and you know it’s entirely in his right. 

When you land on the Tangled Shore, it is eerily silent. You’ve been here nearly six months ago, you remember, and you remember vividly with a smile. What an unfortunate twist of fate has taken you away just as everything had fallen perfectly into place. 

… This was not going to be easy. 

“If there is any trouble, Guardian...” You ghost begins, and you press the little Light against your cheek, for the lack of a better replacement for a hug. He grows quiet with surprise. 

“You and I faced death itself, and emerged victorious.” You start. “We faced our greatest enemy and escaped under its very nose.” You gently caress his shell. “... I know we will perish one day. Until then however... I’ll cherish any and every moment with you, Ghost. Dangerous or not. For better or for worse.” You look at him. “... Why am I telling you all this?” 

“I... am not certain, Guardian.” He quietly replies. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is... No matter what happens in there, Ghost,” you smile at him, “I’ll know whom I can _always_ count on.” 

“Guardian...” He seems in awe. Briefly, sheepishly he adds, ' _good luck',_ and disappears. You think you might have made him shy. 

You turn around, and step into the Spider’s lair. 

Every step you make fills you with dread, anticipation and exhilaration. You’re pretty sure he knows by now. Nothing slips his radar, and your return was not celebrated quietly. No matter what you try and what you want to believe, given the last time - that amazing last time you’ve seen him - nothing but the worst comes up as an idea of what might happen next. You have terrible scenarios playing in your head; where you find out he didn’t notice nor know, where he has moved on as easily as it is to let go of an old trinket, where he finds it insulting though it wasn’t your fault—the list goes on and on. There is truly no reason why you’d think such things would happen but you find yourself being unable to imagine what positive reaction would look like and because of that, you can think only of the worst. The Spider is not a patient man, not a kind soul, and he is _definitely_ not someone who, uh... waits. 

You pass one of his Guards on your way, acknowledging him only by a nod of your head... when he suddenly grabs you by the arm. You raise both of them, trying to show you mean no harm. 

“I’m here to see the Spider.” You softly say. The guard cocks his head, stares carefully, intently at you. You frown. 

Then he says your name. 

You blink, momentarily taken aback. He repeats it - it is a question, you realize.

“... Yes.” You nod, take off your helmet and point to your face for good measure, not sure if the word itself is enough. The Guard lets out a sound you think might be an equivalent of the good old human ‘ _eureka_ ’ judging by its tone. 

He tells you something excitedly, and promptly scurries off. 

You’re not sure whether to follow him or not but something tells you _‘go’_ , so you go anyway, rush after him down the stairs, stop as the throne comes into view with the Spider himself on top of it and you wish time would pause for a while. You wish it would stop, capturing Spider in a conversation with the excitable Eliksni you just saw, so you can longer appreciate the sight of Spider, same as he always was, as if these terrible six months never stole a single day nor moment from you. You stare at the glow of his eyes, some sort of annoyance or frustration in him as he speaks to his guard, see his head snap as it follows to where his guards' hand is pointing to the end of the hallway, as if he otherwise would never be able to see you, standing there. 

A moment generously stretches when your gazes meet, his eyes growing wide, his posture straightening, as his hands grip at the throne as if he might all but dash out of it but the time doesn’t stop. If anything, it goes too fast. Just seeing him, just watching him, just knowing he is close, knowing he is real... it almost feels overwhelming after what you’ve been through. 

The guards quickly empty the room when the Spider gestures. As they do, you draw nearer and stand before him, hardly able to breathe, let alone find any words. 

He climbs down, and is an arms’ length away. You want to say something, do something so badly but words and body both betray you. You stare into his eyes, thirsty for a single word. A ‘Guardian’ would do. A simple ‘hello’, a curse, a ‘get the hell out’, a stupid joke about how he didn’t get any for a while, anything, _literally_ _anyth_ \- 

All four of his hands climb to cup your face and tangle in your hair. His chin rests on your forehead. 

… More than five months to think about anything and everything in the depths of Darkness, and you only now realize this is how Eliksni kiss. The memory of each and every time it happened overflows you. The memory of the very first time it happened flashes before your eyes. 

… _Oh_. 

Your cheeks redden with sheer joy, and your heart overflows with relief, and in that moment, you remember in vivid detail the depths of what you two had. Was it always more than you thought? With Spider, it is so difficult to tell but then again... does it matter now? 

“... _I’m back_.” Your voice all but breaks, as you cover his hands with your own. This time, a moment seems to stretch on forever. No... no that is not right. Rather- 

He won’t let go. Nor do you want him to. 

A long, long time after, you look up at him, and he presses his muzzle against your nose, eyes locking onto yours, fingers caressing your cheeks... and finally, he says something. 

“... You’re _late_.” 

It’s enough to make you smile. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“... I suppose,” he starts, “even the Spider himself can be in the wrong, sometimes.” 

“Hmm?" 

“... I’m willing to entertain the possibility that... you’re the Traveler’s ‘ _miracle_ ’ after all.” 

It is his first comment when you tell him of the horror you’ve been through. Though you’re in the comfort of his private abode, drinking one of his finest spirits, you still feel ice in your stomach when you remember how close you seemed to have been to giving up. 

You scoff, lower your gaze. “You need to stop saying things like that.” 

He smiles at your blushing face. “You need to learn there is a place and time for shyness.” 

“I can’t control such a thing.” 

“You did it pretty well during our... private meetings.” 

“That was different.” You insist, covering you face with your hands – or at least you try to but he instantly draws your hands away. 

“Half a year... is too long to go without seeing you.” He says softly, studying your face, you realize. This goes beyond shyness, you realize. Yes, your face might as well be on fire, and you have to struggle to keep some semblance of the eye contact but... this hurts you. It _physically_ hurts you. His words are... 

“You’re saying too much.” 

“I’ll say much more than that.” 

“I can’t take it.” You honestly blurt out. 

“You will have to. I told you something similar before, I believe; the less you are around, the more I got to make up for.” 

These kinds of words are more potent than any touch anyone could give you. You have never had anyone tell you things like these, you have never had anyone who made you feel so in the first place... You have never told anyone things like these _yourself_. Too much. Simply too much and too suddenly. “When you talk like that, it--” You blurt out with a gasp, because there is a strong, sharp ache in your lungs, and you clutch at your chest. The Spider suddenly realizes it, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks taken aback. 

“... Words hurt you?” 

It is such a simple and nonsensical statement. You never knew how to express it but you realize it’s true. It’s what been _off_ all along, right from the start.

You nod in reply. 

So instead of talking, Spider hold you close... and after a while whispers a stupid joke in your hair, because he knows you love those. 

“... We’ll just have to... resort to body language, eh?” 

You laugh. 

Your mouth curves into a flirtatious grin. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

You didn’t know how much you missed physical contact before you came back to the Tower. 

You didn’t know how much you missed his until now. 

Though you both rush into the comfort of his bed and take your clothes off in record speed, everything that comes after is meticulously slow and thorough, almost as if planned. You’re shocked when in addition to your helmet, he takes off his own rebreather and flings it closely aside. 

“I’ll manage for a while.” He assures, and doesn’t give you any time to think about it, because his lips and hands are busy with marking pretty much single one of your body parts.

Starting from your ankle and proceeding up, up your calves and knees and thighs, cunningly avoiding the most sensitive of your parts, proceeding to put your belly through the same treatment; tongue dipping into the valley of your navel, teeth nibbling at each individual rib, mouth kissing at your nipples, fingers exploring the curves of your body and pressing buttons you nearly forgot you had. Your back curves, your head throws back when his mouth reaches your chest and your neck but he doesn’t let you down on the bed; he instead holds you in his arms, closer to him, closer to his touch, closer to the wetness and warmth of his breath that tickles your skin. Upon him reaching that spot behind your ear, you shiver, throw your arms around his neck, lips gently kissing his face, nails caressing his tough skin. 

Then he speaks out your name and _oh no, it’s so much to take in._

“D-don’t-” You breathlessly start, only to be interrupted by his chuckle. 

“I think you’ve quite surpassed the ‘ _Guardian_ ’.” Spider purrs back, sending another wave of shivers down your spine. “Don’t you...?” Your name crosses his lips again and by the Light why does it sound so _good_. 

“Maybe...” You manage, looking him in the eyes, “... I like being ‘your Guardian’ though.” 

“Heh.” He gently presses his mouth against your lips. “... You always will be.” 

His words cause that familiar ache in your chest but you manage to put it aside when he starts lowering himself down, straight to the spot between your legs that begs to be touched after so long, and you gasp when you feel his tongue against you, slick and agile, hungry for the taste of you, his arms pulling you closer to him, one of the idle hands touching your entrance, the other at your hip, and it’s so much and by the _Light_ you’re so loud and so desperate already. 

Soon after however, Spider has to put his rebreather back on, and leaves you desperately craving for release. The frustration must show, because he snickers. 

“Not to worry,” you gasp when his fingers enter you, “I would hate to leave you... _dissatisfied_.” 

You fall into the linen, hands clutching at the blankets as his fingers work in you, bending slightly, the other hand in direct touch with the most sensitive of your spots. He looms over you, watching your face almost reverently. 

“Spider-!” You gasp, horny, and shy and overwhelmed with emotion all at once. 

“Come, my Guardian.” Spider coaxes and you’re more than happy to oblige that rough voice. You shudder violently, fighting for breath as his fingers seek a bit further for that spot that makes you relive your climax over and over, pleasure like a fire in your abdomen. The air grows hotter when he positions himself over you, his hands on your face, the other two holding onto your hips.

The ache in your lung **burns**. You must’ve made a noise or a face, or both. 

“You will have to get rid of that sooner or later.” He says. 

“I don’t know how!” You gasp, trying to stay calm, because you don’t know what’s going on with you and in all honesty, it’s freaking you out. 

“You don’t know how?” He repeats, and it’s the sincerest confusion you ever heard in his voice. “Guardian.” He pulls himself down, his rebreather on your forehead. You’ll never get over how intimate of a kiss it is. “... You're the _only_ one who knows.” 

… Someone might as well have written it on your eyelids, because it suddenly becomes clear. 

It is not his words that ache. It is _yours_ , unspoken. 

“I’ve...” Your voice trembles and you clear your throat. It helps some. “... I’ve missed you _so_ goddamn much.” You almost chuckle at what a relief it is to finally give some voice to a mess inside of you. It is a shock both for your body and your brain. You’re pretty sure you’ve never told anyone anything like it, dead men aside.

There is a caress of his hand, close to your ear. 

“Go on, my Guardian.” Spider coaxes again, unusually patient, uncharacteristically gentle as he slowly, almost idly positions himself. You breathe in. Your hands run up to touch his, still on your face. 

“I thought I’d never see you again. Hell, I... I never thought I’d see the _light of day_ again.” You continue jokingly, the pain in your lungs screaming to be let out. “I thought I’d never get to tell you what... how you made me feel.” 

The Spider moves his body over yours. Your breath hitches, and you prepare yourself as he leans in, “I thought I’d never get to thank you!” You finish with a gasp as he sinks into you, slowly gaining on rhythmic thrusts that you craved and dreamed about during the loneliest of times, deep beneath the surface of the Moon. You cry out, your body tightens as you bend in his arms, and you hear him rasp: 

“More.” 

“For so long, I’ve wanted you,” your words are cut off as pleasure ripples through you again, “if someone had told me this would – oh by the- I never would have _believed_!” You gasp out, another one of his thrusts bringing him even deeper into you, his hands slipping slightly into your hair. 

“ _More_ , Guardian.” He demands. 

“What you made me feel,” you pause to breathe, fight for air, “I never thought I’d find it!” His grunts get louder amidst your cries and breaths and shuffled words, his breathing grows sharper, eager, his body is leaning into you, your faces so close, his eyes of icy blue telling you- 

“More.” 

“I would give everything to you,” your mouth starts to run ahead of your brain, carried by the swell of emotion, “whatever you needed, whatever you wanted, whatever you asked!” You melt into him, his member deep in you, his hand all over but one, only one on your face, touching your cheek and driving you insane with how intimate it is, and- 

“ _Only you_.” The Spider replies with a rasp, voice broken in between his increasingly stronger, erratic moves, one hand moving to desperately press into your own, and his two words carry everything and anything he never told you, never could or never would tell you. 

“Spider!” Your eyes shut close, you bite back a moan, you let your inhibitions go as the orgasm runs through you, let it out as another one follows suit, as you ascend the plain of pleasure under his body once again, trembling in his arms, as you open your mouth to breathe, and as the words slip again: 

“I never thought,” you say, stronger than before, ache all but gone, “I’d care so much.” Spider sinks down into you, all but stops moving, suddenly slower, suddenly attentive, his hand almost desperately cupping your face, his eyes looking directly into yours. He is listening. 

“... _More_.” You hear it in his voice, that it isn’t so much a command, or instruction, or even a request. It’s more of a plea. Something desperate is in there. A need. 

“... I never expected you would care, too.” You finish breathlessly... your ache gone. 

Spider leans down, his forehead finding a spot in the crook of your neck. From there you can feel, you swear you can feel it in the way he pauses – a moment’s hesitation. But you needn't give him a nudge this time. You gave him everything already and he must know, he must trust you when he finally lets go and replies to your words: 

“More than you think, Guardian. Much more.” 

His body moves, gains momentum again, the pleasure grows again, his pace sending you back into the depth of pleasure you know so well by now... but now there is more to it, for your heart swells at his words. You’re seeing stars for different reasons than the utter satisfaction of your body and you revel in the fact that you’re not only wanted or needed or desired: 

_You are loved_. 

Your sex drive turns into passion which you didn’t know you were capable of, the sex itself is suddenly like a never-ending dance, pleasure and bliss coursing through your bodies in a never-ending loop, on this seemingly eternal night. 

Your bodies intertwine in so many ways that go by as if in a dream... 

Spider, lifting you up, pulling you down onto him as you scream, overwhelmed with the sensation. 

You, on top of him, giving him all of you, his many hands desperately reaching, searching for your skin, him calling your name again, and again, and again... 

Your face in a pillow, arms on your back, letting him do what he will with you, letting him whisper all of his deepest, darkest desires into your ear.

His shivering knees underneath your hands, as you’re testing his patience with nothing but the skill of your lips and teeth. 

You, passionately biting into his neck, his hands leaving red marks on your skin, both groaning and growling and crying out at the rough touch. 

It feels as if night after night has passed, dreamed up rather than lived through because all suddenly changed, all shifted, all is different through the lens of adoration you feel for this strange man, the adoration you know he feels for you too. 

So much. So much, and all of it ... divine. 

You smile, his face the last thing you can see, his jaw the last thing you touch, his body above yours... you smile, and you can’t help it as you drift into a dream... you smile, and think to yourself how strange it all is. And you smile when you realize, it is strange because, it all began as a joke... 

_It’s kinda stupid. It's kinda funny._

You giggle just before you fall asleep. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Both of you stand outside his private chambers, concealed in shadows. You feel as if you had only dreamed the last couple of days but know it can’t be true if judging by the lightly bruised, scratched, aching state of your body... and the overwhelming _something_ in your chest. 

Thing are about to change, you first think... but then you realize they already have. 

Light only knows where this life will take you next. 

“Guardian.” The crime lord addresses you. 

“Spider.” You nod, turn to leave as subtly as possible, when you feel a hand on your shoulder. 

“Before you go, I need you to...,” he pauses, and you wait, “... Make me a promise.” 

“... What is it?” 

Alone and in shadow, he makes it a point of taking your hand in his. You swallow. 

“It does not matter to me how far you go,” he starts, “how long you’re gone, what you do... not even how _**late**_ you are,” you laugh at his tone, close your eyes as he touches your forehead in by now familiar fashion, “... _come back_.” 

The sincerity and the strangeness of the request catch you by surprise. Your face must be as bright as the Sun itself upon hearing such a line, and even though you’re wearing a helmet, Spider chuckles because he knows your body language that well at this point. 

“'Time and place for shyness', Guardian.” 

“If this isn't the time, I don’t know what is.” You laugh incredulously. “... I wouldn’t want to be indebted to you, Spider. I’ll have to ask you for a promise of your own.” 

“I am well-known to be fair.” He purrs.

“... No matter how far I go,” you begin, and he’s already, chuckling, “how long I’m gone, no matter what _you_ do while I am, nor how 'late' I am,” you pause as he did, “... _be here_ when I return.” 

“As the Tangled Shore’s only law, I think I can confirm... _we have a deal_.” 

The Spider gives you another one of his alien kisses. You wish it would have lasted longer. You almost prefer it to the touch of lips, because to you, it means so many things. He lets go of your hands.

“So long, Guardian.” 

“Only until the next time.” 

... It’s a promise. 

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**So we reach the end.**

**The amount of attention this story got is... inconceivable, to me.**

**Thank you all. For every comment, look, glance, and for attention. Every one of them meant the world.**

**Until the next story.**

**( _ _ )**


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